Flagg's Folly
by Texas Bluebonnet
Summary: Sarabeth MacAllister, the nurse with the Texas twang and a penchant for puns, is back! The third installment of the adventures and misadventures during her tour of duty at the 4077th MASH has begun. Comments are always welcome.
1. Chapter 1

ONE

* * *

Jan 5th, 1953: 0300 hours

In the early morning hours, yet another long operating room session at the Army surgical hospital unit known as the 4077th was drawing to a close. To help relieve some of the tension, and to keep themselves distracted from the carnage they were encountering, Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had been conducting their usual back and forth banter. This time, their topic concerned rabbits.

A sudden, anguished yelp had shocked the OR personnel into silence.

Lieutenant Sarabeth MacAllister, her face pale and filled with pain, swayed as she fought to stand upright.

"Baker, take her table!" Margaret Houlihan called to the circulating nurse. She reached the younger woman's side at the same time that Hawkeye Pierce grabbed her other arm. They held on to her as her knees buckled.

"Her face is whiter than her mask," Pierce noted. "Pulse is rapid; skin's cold; she's going into shock. Let's get her outside."

Weakly, the surgical nurse objected, "I can't leave. I have a patient on the table."

"You're going to be a patient on the table if you don't lie down," the Chief Surgeon responded as he and Major Houlihan helped her out of the operating room.

* * *

In the alcove outside the surgery area, Hawkeye eased Sarabeth onto one of the cots. He covered her with a blanket while the charge nurse elevated her feet with a shock block. She then took the Texan's pulse and blood pressure, reporting her results.

"Major Houlihan, Doctor Pierce," the woman softly spoke, "I apologize. I have never had to leave a surgery session for any reason."

"Knowing your brother's been shot sounds like a pretty good reason to me," the man answered. Satisfied that she was out of immediate danger, Hawkeye added, "Margaret, I'll stay with her for a few minutes until her color's better. And then I'll return to the OR."

"Yes, sir. MacAllister, I'm changing the duty roster. You'll be on the third post-op shift, rather than the second," Houlihan stated.

"Major, I can work the second shift, like always," the nurse protested. "There's no need.…"

"Take the time to recover, Lieutenant," the senior officer advised. "I don't want you passing out while on ward duty. And…I hope that everything turns out all right with your brother." She started towards the scrubbing area. "I'll have your next patient ready in a few minutes, Doctor," Major Houlihan announced over her shoulder.

"Thank you, ma'am," Sarabeth MacAllister called to her. She tried to sit up. Captain Pierce held her down. "I'm all right," she told him in mild exasperation.

"I've seen cadavers that look better than you do," Hawkeye retorted; and then realized what he had said. "Sorry. Just ignore any of my stupid remarks."

"I always do." Tears forming in her eyes, MacAllister looked at him, "Oh, Hawk. He's been hit so hard! But he's madder than hell. And he's got a job to do. He's not going to let a bullet stop him."

"He sounds as stubborn as someone else I know," the dark-haired man grinned at her, "Just rest, Sarabeth. And don't get up. You'll be all right."

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about," she replied.

* * *

Soon after Pierce left the area, Sarabeth sat on the edge of the cot. She was trying to force away her dizziness. "Pull yourself together, MacAllister," the Texan chided herself, "You've still got work to do." Taking a deep, determined breath, she pushed herself up from the bed. Immediately regretting her movements, she braced her arm against the wall to keep from falling.

"Oh-h-h. He's starting to feel the blood loss," she whispered. "Come on, Crockett. Stay with us, big brother. Stay with us!"

* * *

The operating room had returned to some semblance of normalcy. Christie Baker was now working with Colonel Potter as his surgical nurse. They were finishing their procedures, preparing the soldier for a trip to the recovery room. B J Hunnicutt and his team were working on a man with minor injuries. Hawkeye Pierce and Margaret Houlihan were taking care of the very last wounded man waiting to be treated.

With a sigh, Major Winchester finally completed his surgery. "Corpsman," he indicated his patient, "give him a very smooth ride to post-op." To the head nurse, he added, "Margaret, make certain his urine output is monitored. I want to see if the repairs to his kidney are going to hold."

At her acknowledgment, he stripped off his gloves and announced, "Since there are no more unfortunate souls waiting for my assistance, I intend to adjourn to the Swamp for some much needed sleep."

"Winchester," Colonel Potter spoke. "Escort the lieutenant to her quarters and tell her I'll talk to her, as soon as I hear anything."

"And tell her I'll stop by, later," Hawkeye Pierce added.

"And that all of the MacAllisters are in my prayers," Father Mulcahy contributed.

Other operating room personnel offered their kind words, as well.

"I shall relay the messages," the officer promised as he left the surgery area for the changing room.

* * *

Major Winchester walked over to the alcove outside the operating room. Since MacAllister wasn't there, he expanded his search. He found her in the pre-op room, sitting on a stool while the nurse on duty finished her routine cleanup procedures. The doctor stood near the entrance way and listened to their conversation. He was relieved to discover that, while still pale, she had partially recovered from her earlier distress.

"Are you sure I can't help you do something, Kellye?" the Texan inquired.

"No way," the dark-haired nurse responded. "You need to sit there and rest. When you staggered in here, your face was as white as a sheet."

"So was yours, after I told you what had happened," MacAllister softly retorted.

"I know. But I'm all right, now."

"So am I," Sarabeth replied.

Kellye looked at her skeptically, "I'd like a second opinion on that."

"I shall be happy to oblige," the man announced as he walked into the room. He looked critically at the red-haired nurse. "You're right. She is in need of rest. Lieutenant MacAllister," he spoke, "I am to take you to your quarters, per Colonel Potter's orders."

"I'll go; but I sure won't be able to sleep much," the woman declared.

* * *

As they stood outside the nurse's tent, Winchester told MacAllister about the concerns of the medical personnel. He then added, with apologies, "Sarabeth...I wanted to come to you. I couldn't. I was in the middle of a renal reconstruction. I couldn't leave my patient. Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Charles," she answered. "In the OR, your patients must come first...no matter what. I'm embarrassed that I had to leave," MacAllister admitted.

"Some things simply can not be helped, my dear. What I don't understand is; how did you know, and feel, that your brother had been shot?" Winchester asked.

Sarabeth shrugged, "All of us kids have always been able to pick up _very_ strong emotions from each other; like when we're sad or scared or happy…or hurt."

"Are you able to determine his…condition…at this moment?"

"I know he's still alive…for now. But, he's lost so much blood..." she shuddered helplessly.

"MacAllisters are notoriously...determined...individuals. Crockett will be all right," the man asserted, hoping that his words would prove to be accurate. "Get some sleep, Sarabeth," he directed. "And, please, do not hesitate to call me if you need me---for any reason."

"If you were Hawkeye Pierce, I'd be suspicious of that offer," she managed to grin. Placing her hand on his arm, she added, "You're a good friend, Charles. Thank you."

Seizing the opportunity, surprising them both, Winchester placed his hand over hers. With a gentle, caressing motion, his thumb moved across the top of her fingers. "Sarabeth, you are a dear friend of mine. In fact…."

A sudden blast of cold wind howling around the corner of the tent staggered both of the medical officers. Shaking his head in frustration, the man opened the door for the woman, "I would like to continue this conversation…later…under better conditions and warmer surroundings…if I may."

The woman from Texas smiled at him, "I would _relish_ that."

* * *

Alone in his office, in the pre-dawn hours, Colonel Potter sat waiting. He was expecting a call; a call that he was not looking forward to receiving; or delivering.

"I wish this whole damn nightmare was over," he said as he poured himself a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

* * *

Jan. 5th: 0930 hours

Stifling a yawn, Corporal Klinger looked at his list of things to accomplish this morning. He had already had a busy day. He had typed up four reports to send to HQ. He had awoken Major Winchester for his post-op duty and he had had to listen to that officer's complaints. He had informed Sergeant Rizzo that a replacement for his motor pool crew should be arriving in a few days. He had made arrangements for another cot to be placed in the enlisted men's quarters. And, he had measured, and staked, the area where the tent for the new nurses would be set up.

The other MASH outfits further away from the front lines had already gotten the extra nurses that the Army Medical Board, at Colonel Blankenship's urging, had deemed necessary. The 8063rd and the 4077th were the only two units left who were waiting for their additional assistants. He knew that the nurses here would be glad to have someone else to help take care of all the patients. But, the word from HQ was "soon"; which, in Army lingo, probably meant never.

He had stopped by the nurse's tent, hoping to see how the lieutenant was doing. Before he could knock on the door, however; Nurse Smith had walked by and had told him that MacAllister was finally asleep and that unless the tent was on fire, he was to leave her alone. Believing the threats she had voiced, he had left the area hurriedly.

No calls had been made to them. The colonel had even placed a call to MacAllister's outfit but no one had answered there, either. Klinger hoped that every thing was all right.

The company clerk paused in front of the bulletin board near the hospital building. Amongst the orders of the day, an offer to swap a gallon of suntan lotion for some winter gloves, and Hawkeye Pierce's latest affection-seeking scheme; there was a notice that the deadline to apply for the sergeant's exam had been extended to the end of the month. Colonel Potter must have posted that one while he was out taking care of camp business.

Klinger read that announcement again. He did meet all the requirements…and the few dollars extra in pay would be nice…but…did he really want to try for that step up in rank?

Stopping beside him, Captain Pierce asked, "Any responses to my 'hug a doctor' request?" And then, curious to see what the other man was reading, he looked at the notice. He laughed, "You're not seriously thinking about taking that test, are you?"

"Why not?" The corporal asked.

"Because Klinger; that's for people who want to stay in the Army. You're trying to get out, remember? Besides, every time we've had a contest for a couple of days leave, you've written the answers on your arms and legs. There wouldn't be enough room left on your entire body for all the questions on that exam."

"I wouldn't cheat on something like that, sir," Max Klinger replied. "I just might sign up for it."

The man from Maine laughed again, "If you do, you just might get that section eight."

He walked away, chuckling, "_Sergeant_ Klinger…that's a good one."

Disappointed that the doctor was not taking him seriously, the corporal sighed and headed back to his office. He had some more reports to type. The captain was right, anyway. What made him think that he could actually pass that test?

* * *

Jan. 5th: 1830 hours

Lieutenant Kellye was sitting at the nurse's desk. She, Sarabeth MacAllister and Captain Hunnicutt had made the change-of-shift inspections of the two post-op wards and had completed the updates on the medical charts. MacAllister had been assigned the duty in post-op #2, and was now in the VIP tent, taking care of the patients there. Hunnicutt and Kellye were on duty in post-op #1. All of their charges were resting comfortably. Both medical officers were taking the opportunity to write a letter.

Kellye wrote:

_Dear Tim,_

_This is not a good day. Very early this morning we found out that Crockett had been shot. It's been over twelve hours and there's still no word. Sarabeth thinks he's alive but she's not sure. Fannin was with him. So we don't know if they're both hurt, or captured, or what. I am so worried about the two of them! _

_It reminds me of when Papa passed away—I have that same feeling of dread. I don't know what we're going to do if.… No, I'm not going to write it; I'm not even going to think it…._

_Anyway, I'm glad that everyone back home had a good Christmas. Despite everything, we had a good time, here. Our party for the orphans was fun. And the packages from home were great! Thanks for sending me my lava rock. It has always meant so much to me. And, it brought back so many memories._

_I made a small bag to keep it in and I'm wearing it on the same chain as my 'dog tags'. Christie says she wears her wedding ring next to her ID tags, too. And I know that Sarabeth wears her bluebonnet necklace under her shirt, as well. So far, Major Houlihan hasn't said anything about our extra jewelry. I'm sure she knows about it, however. She doesn't miss much around here._

_Like last week, when we were stationed at the 425th Evac. Hospital. Monica was complaining, as usual. She was also reporting for duty late, as usual. Sarabeth had warned her but she didn't listen. So, she found out that she could be assigned to bed pan duty at that hospital, too. And, Major Houlihan chewed her out royally, as well. It was hard for the rest of us not to show how much we enjoyed hearing that lecture. _

_It was also interesting to see some of the patients that we had treated previously. At our outfit, we can only 'patch them up and ship them out'. We never get to see their actual recovery process. I enjoyed being able to visit with those soldiers and to see how well they were progressing in their therapies. _

_I'm so very glad to hear that you and Alana are getting married! I like her. Have you set a date yet? Maybe I'll be able to come to your wedding. Don't count on it; however. It doesn't seem like this war is ever going to end…._

Hearing a cry of panic from one of the beds, both the nurse and doctor quickly moved to the young man's side. After determining that his shout was caused by nightmares, and not pain; and after they soothed his fears, B J Hunnicutt returned to his own letter:

_I wish I were home with you and Erin, Peg. But, it doesn't seem like this war is ever going to end…._


	3. 3

THREE

* * *

Jan. 6th: 0130 hours 

Lifting his head from his paws, the dog growled at the rodent that was on the other side of the tent, searching for a way into the nurses' quarters. The rat scampered away into the darkness. The canine followed its scent around the edge of the canvas material and whined in frustration.

"Good boy, Ernie," Sarabeth MacAllister murmured drowsily. "Run those varmints off." Hearing the familiar voice, the woman's pet ambled to the side of the cot. With a leap, he jumped onto the bed. "You know you're not supposed to be up here, little dog," the woman scolded. "Lucky for you, pup, I'm too tired to care."

The animal wagged his tail as a slender arm moved from underneath a colorful quilt to gently rub his ears. Soon, both were asleep, again.

* * *

"**_Fannin_**!" With an agonized gasp, Sarabeth sat upright in her bed. Her dog looked at her with sleepy confusion as the young woman rubbed her leg to ease a sudden ache. 

"Where...?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, that _idiot_!" MacAllister commented as she fastened her bathrobe and jacket over her pajamas. She pulled on her boots and placed her cap on her head.

At the activity, her tent mates stirred sleepily in their cots, "What's going on?" Jeanette Thompson asked.

"Sorry," the Texan whispered an apology, "ya'll go back to sleep."

* * *

Accompanied by a guard, the nurse ran to her commanding officer's quarters and knocked at the door, "Colonel! Colonel Potter, wake up, sir!" 

Wrapping his robe around him, the officer opened the door to his tent and drowsily blinked up at her, "What's all the caterwauling about, Lieutenant?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. But we've got a chopper, with an injured pilot, coming in," she explained.

"A chopper flying at night!" Potter was incredulous. "I'd say that was impossible; except, obviously, it's not."

"He's been using the moonlight as a guide...but he needs more light than that to see the landing pad," the lieutenant added.

The man shook his head at such recklessness, "Notify Klinger. Have him send a medical team with a couple of jeeps up there to light that fool pilot's way. Who the blue blazes would pull such a stupid stunt, anyway!" He wondered.

"Well, sir," the woman grinned at him, "my brother Fannin, would."

* * *

The vehicles were quickly assembled at opposite ends of the landing pad. Waiting in darkness, to discourage the snipers, the five members of the MASH unit could hear the helicopter rotors. As the chopper approached, headlights were switched on, directing it to the site. 

Bending low, to avoid the whirling blades, a redheaded nurse, who had insisted that she was going up to the hill—with or without permission—was the first one to reach the pilot's side. She hugged the man, tightly, before saying, "Brother mine, you are an idiot!"

"I'm glad to see you, too, sister mine," Fannin MacAllister replied.

Sarabeth examined his leg, "That's not too bad." She stepped back to give Hawkeye Pierce room to inspect her brother's injury.

"Looks like we've got some unexpected visitors; I do hope the guest house is ready,"B J Hunnicutt stated. He was examining the other occupant of the helicopter for injuries.

"It's about time we get something easy to fix," Hawkeye commented while he applied a field dressing, "although you could have picked a better time to drop in, Captain. Some time after noon would have been nice."

"Sorry to drop in on y'all uninvited, Doc," the pilot answered with a lopsided grin as Pierce and a corpsman helped him out of the aircraft. "But I figured my sister would want to see my passenger as soon as possible."

His sibling had already raced to the other side of the helicopter and was helping a man climb down.

"Howdy, little sister," Crockett MacAllister said with a weak smile.


	4. 4

FOUR

* * *

"Howdy, big brother," Sarabeth MacAllister replied with a grin of her own.

His right arm bandaged, and in a sling, the older MacAllister held out his good arm in invitation to her. She began to cry as she stepped into his embrace. "I'm sorry...I don't know why I'm crying...It's just...I'm _so_ glad to see you...Oh, Crockett!" She sobbed as she hugged him.

Her brother held her tightly and whispered, "Sh-h-h, Kitten. It's all right. It's all..." Abruptly, he scanned their surroundings. "Kill those lights! And hit the dirt!" Colonel MacAllister commanded. He pushed Sarabeth towards the ground.

The sharp sound of a bullet ricocheting off a jeep had the corpsmen scurrying to obey. The helicopter pad was plunged into darkness as more shots were fired.

"Fannin," the officer spoke, with quiet calmness, as he crouched protectively over his sister. He drew his service revolver from his holster and freed his injured arm from its confining harness, "Spot them, yet?"

"Got 'em," was the swift response. His own weapon in his hand, the pilot, flat on the ground next to his helicopter, was alertly watching the area.

"Looks like we woke up the local snipers," Hawkeye Pierce observed. He was also on his stomach hugging the earth. "Anyone know a Chinese lullaby?"

Two more bullets fired in their direction answered him.

"On my signal, Hunnicutt, you and Sarabeth run towards the first jeep. Stay low," the combat officer directed. "Ready?"

"Ready," the woman whispered.

"Let's give 'em hell, big brother," Fannin, knowing what his sibling intended, had crawled to a better firing position.

"GO!" MacAllister ordered.

The brothers returned the enemy's fire; emptying their pistol clips into the bushes.

Using that diversion, keeping low to the ground, the two members of the medical team sprinted towards the Army vehicle. Reaching it, they slid to a halt and took refuge behind it. Breathing a sigh of relief, they hid beside the corpsman waiting there.

Never taking his eyes off the battle field, quickly sliding another ammo clip into his weapon, Colonel MacAllister inquired, "Pierce, can you get Fannin to the other jeep?"

"I can," he replied. "But this is the last time I make a house call in the middle of a war." Kneeling beside the Texan, Hawkeye Pierce placed an arm around his shoulder and helped him to his feet.

"Ready?" The colonel asked.

"No. But let's get this over with," the doctor answered.

"GO!"

The two men, one supporting the other, started towards the jeep. Following along behind them, Crockett MacAllister set down a pattern of gunfire to cover their retreat. When they neared the vehicle, the soldier called, "Move out!"

As the corpsmen started the engines in the two jeeps, Hawkeye helped the pilot into the seat of the second vehicle before scrambling in himself. The colonel clambered in, as well. "Drive like a bat out of hell," he ordered.

The drivers didn't need to be told a second time.

* * *

Both vehicles stopped as close as possible to the doors of the hospital. Personnel from inside the building rushed out to tend to the injured. Colonel Potter and Major Winchester were among the first to arrive.

"Anyone hurt?" Potter asked.

"No new bullet holes, anyway," Hawkeye Pierce responded.

"Sarabeth, are you certain you are all right?" Charles Winchester asked as he helped her down.

"Yes, major," the woman assured him and hurriedly stepped over to the other jeep to help her oldest brother. Slipping under his arm, she supported most of his weight as he tried to stand.

With a sigh of relief, Winchester exclaimed, "Thank God!"

"I just did," Father Mulcahy answered reverently.

"I'm okay too, Charles. Thanks for asking," Hawkeye added. He jumped out of the jeep to help with the injured men. Others moved to assist, as well. "Easy! Watch his leg!" Captain Pierce was saying.

"Let's move it, people! Everyone inside!" the commanding officer of the medical unit ordered.

As the group entered the hospital building, the company clerk ran in through the side door. He reported, "Regimental says they'll send a patrol out to locate that welcoming committee."

"I don't reckon those particular snipers will be bothering y'all for a while," Crockett MacAllister commented with a satisfied grin. "It spoils their fun when you shoot back at them. And now, Colonel," he spoke in a tired voice, "I have several calls I must make."

"Right this way," Potter gestured towards his office.

"You're not going anywhere—except into surgery!" Sarabeth MacAllister announced. Frowning in concern, she hadn't left her brother's side. "Doctor," she called to the nearest physician.

B J Hunnicutt examined the man's shoulder, "She's right. You've torn open those sutures. Roy," he spoke to one of the nearby medics, "here's another one for pre-op."

"I have some calls to make," the colonel stated in a no-nonsense tone.

"You tell me who you need to call and what you want me to say; Klinger and I will take care of it. The only place you're going is into the OR, big brother," Sarabeth declared.

"You're hard-headed, _little sister_, you know that?" The man responded. He allowed himself to be led away for treatment, however.

* * *

Since she was not a part of the surgical teams, Sarabeth requested post op duty. Major Houlihan rejected the request, stating that the nurse had just completed her shift and needed her sleep.

"Major, I _am_ going to be sitting up with my brothers until they come out of the anesthesia," MacAllister stated emphatically. She added, with a lopsided grin, "So I might as well take the duty."

Relenting with a smile, the head nurse shook her head in exasperation, "You are hard-headed, you know that?"

"Sometimes," the lieutenant admitted.


	5. 5

FIVE

* * *

Jan 6th: 0400 hours

A nurse was sitting between two hospital beds. She had a hand resting gently on each man's shoulder. As one of her patients stirred, the red-haired woman smiled and said, "Howdy, big brother. It's about time you were awake."

"This ain't half bad, little sister," a red-haired man on the hospital cot grinned back at her. He looked around at his surroundings. "Clean sheets, blankets, flannel pajamas; and, a bevy of beautiful nurses at my beck and call."

"Not a bad arrangement," Sarabeth agreed. She took his vitals, recorded the information on his medical chart and kissed his forehead. "No major damage done. You'll be up and flying in no time."

Fannin MacAllister asked, "So why are you looking worried? I've been cut worse climbing through a barbed wire fence."

"It's Crockett. He was in the OR a lot longer than you were. And he didn't just rip those stitches loose; there was more muscle damage, as well."

"Is he going to be all right?" Her brother asked in concern.

"He will be." Taking a deep breath to force away her anxiety and affectionately squeezing her brother's hand, Sarabeth said, "You did some mighty fine flying to get here. I reckon that's because you're one of the best chopper pilots in Korea."

"_The_ best chopper pilot in Korea!" The man corrected.

The woman amended her words with a laugh. "_The_ best chopper pilot in Korea," she acknowledged. "Fannin…I know there's a lot that you can't tell me. And I know there's a lot that Crockett doesn't want you to tell me; however, I want to know how y'all got hurt."

"I'll tell you what little I can." Sarabeth settled back in her chair to listen to the captain's story. "We were on a Search and Rescue. Silent in; silent out..."

* * *

...Crockett and his men had freed the captives. They were guiding them back to where I was waiting with the troop carrier. But someone---not from his squad, mind you...his men know better than that---someone else couldn't wait and started firing too soon. So then, all hell broke loose. Crockett sent his men on ahead with the captives and he covered their escape."

"He was hit hard. But he kept on shooting until they were all on board. Then we pulled him onto the helicopter and lit out like a scalded cat." Fannin continued, "I had orders to get those people to safety---no matter what. I was supposed to leave without him---if I had to. But, there was _no_ way that I was going to leave without him."

"And, how did you manage to get hurt?" Sarabeth asked sternly.

The Texan shrugged, "Coming here, we were flying low...just over the treetops. Obviously, someone was unhappy about the noise we were making and fired a shot at us."

Sarabeth nodded in understanding, "People do tend to get cranky when you wake them up from a nap."

* * *

"...The 16th British was the closest hospital. We couldn't contact you because of security reasons. Crockett had planned on dropping off the freed prisoners, getting his men treated, his shoulder patched up and leaving. But the doctors there wanted to ship him off to some other hospital to recuperate."

"So you shanghaied him, instead," the youngest MacAllister smiled.

"I shanghaied him, instead. I figured he would much rather recover here, with you and Kellye making a fuss over him, than being stuck in some British facility."

"You figured right, brother mine," Crockett MacAllister announced faintly from his bed. "Are you okay?"

"Right as rain," the pilot responded with a grin.

The nurse swiftly turned her attention to her other patient. After recording his medical information on his chart, she smiled in relief and said, "Well, it's about time. How are you feeling, big brother?"

"Like I've been rode hard and put up wet," the man admitted but then asked, "Did you reach Sterling?"

"I did. He sent you a coded message," Sarabeth pulled the note from her pocket and handed it to him. "He also told me that he knew who to contact, that everything was under control in your area and that he'd be here today, after the morning recons were up."

After reading the message, the soldier folded it and looked at his younger siblings, "And what kind of tall tales has my little brother been telling you?"

"You missed a great bedtime story, brother mine," the woman informed him, "full of daring rescues; heroic deeds; brave men…good things like that."

"Fannin has a vivid imagination," he stated.

"He does, indeed." She bent down to kiss his forehead, "And Sarabeth MacAllister has some very good brothers. Two of whom are in this room, right now. And she is very, very proud of both of them!"


	6. 6

SIX

* * *

Jan. 6th: 0830 hours

Crocket MacAllister had been sleeping fitfully since waking up from the anesthesia. Awake again, yawning, he glanced at the woman who was still sitting in a chair beside his cot. "Little sister, are you going to perch there all day?" He spoke hoarsely.

With a yawn of her own, the nurse helped him sip water from aglass. "I'm not going to make the same mistake the English doctors did and let you run away," she replied.

"I didn't run away. I flew away," he corrected her.

"Flew away, then. However, since your pilot's been grounded, I reckon you'll have to stay here and recuperate; for four or five days, anyway."

"I have stayed in worse places," Crockett teased.

"No doubt," Sarabeth grinned and then ordered, "You really need to get some good sleep, big brother."

"I know. I have a lot of things on my mind, however."

"Anything you want to talk about?" She offered.

MacAllister shook his head, "Not here. Later." He managed to grin, "I would like to talk to you about something else, however. Tell me, sister mine; did you enjoy your visit to Tokyo?"

"Most of it. The food was fairly good. I did have a hard time being around all those soldiers, however. Luckily, I managed to keep myself from declaring war on the entire Japanese army…again."

"How fortunate that Winchester was there to...comfort...you," her brother responded.

Ignoring his probing remark, the woman replied guilelessly, "Yes, it was rather comforting to have Charles there with me. Don't forget, I also had Fannin to keep me from getting bored."

"Yes, Fannin does tend to make things lively," MacAllister replied drolly.

"Never a dull moment," she acknowledged. Seeing someone entering the hospital building, Sarabeth added, with a smile, "Here's someone who has been waiting to see you."

A dark-haired nurse started towards him. "Oh, Crockett!" Lieutenant Kellye cried. She wiped away her tears. "I've been so worried about you!"

Sarabeth stepped into the aisle to let the other woman sit beside her brother. With a smile, Crockett MacAllister reached to caress her cheek. "Kellye, honey," he whispered.

"Gee, this is a great movie. I wish I had some popcorn to go with it," Fannin MacAllister observed from other side of the room. Already restless, he had been hobbling around the hospital ward with the use of a cane.

Flushing slightly, Crockett grinned at his brother, "I'll give you a nickel to go watch a Western."

"Why? This is much more interesting. Is it going to be a double feature?"

Sarabeth laughed, "All right, you two, save it for later; when both of y'all are stronger."

"We'll talk again," MacAllister promised the nurse sitting beside him. "And I'll leave my kid brother at home." He grinned at the woman who blushed.

Suddenly frowning, all of his good-natured demeanor disappearing, the colonel pushed himself upright in bed. The women objected but he ignored their protests."Fannin, Sarabeth, say nothing… and _do_ nothing. Y'all hear me?" He commanded.

Staring at him in bewilderment, the reason for his change in manner became apparent moments later when Colonel Flagg sauntered in the hospital room. With a swagger, he stopped in front of the injured officer's bed. "So this is the man who let Zheng He, the butcher, escape."

Moving backwards, Sarabeth whispered to the other ward nurse, "Go get Potter and Pierce." Lieutenant Parnelli looked at her in surprise. "Do it!" The Texan hissed angrily. Seeing the fury in her eyes, the woman sprinted out the side door.

MacAllister gathered something from the nurse's station, and keeping it hidden behind her back, slowly returned to the middle of the room. At the other end of the ward, the injured pilot had grabbed a pair of crutches leaning next to a patient's bed and had flanked the CID officer from the other side.

Unperturbed by the man's accusations, Colonel MacAllister replied, "Zheng He was not my assignment, Flagg."

"But you had him, right there in front of you; and you let him go."

"My only responsibility was to free those captives and get them to safety," the Texan answered calmly. "You were the one who assured Hawthorne, and the other generals, that you would capture him. You were so confident that you refused to accept any assistance from anyone, remember? Besides," he added, "I winged him. All you had to do was hold onto him."

The CID officer answered defensively, "I almost had him---until someone in your outfit fired that shot."

The G-2 officer shook his head, "My men were in position at the northeast sector. That shot came from the southwest sector. That was your area, was it not?"

Captain Pierce came barreling into the hospital ward. He took in the scene at a glance. "Okay, Flagg," he ordered, "Out!"

Colonel Flagg approached him, "You can't order me out. I'm CID…on a mission." He tried the intimidation that worked so many times.

His techniques had never worked on Hawkeye Pierce and they didn't work now, either. The man from Maine replied, "And I'm Chief Surgeon…in a tizzy. I'll see your mission and raise it to a medical order. Get out of my hospital!"

Looking around at the faces of the people who were staring at him, Flagg remarked, "I see it now. You're all in this together. I'll get that murderer; you just watch. And I'm going to get you, Pierce. You're digging a deep grave for yourself, _comrade_."

"You'll be the one falling into it---head first, Flagg," Pierce retorted.

"Is there some problem here?" Colonel Potter, standing in the doorsill, asked mildly. He moved into the room, followed by a breathless nurse.

The captain answered his commanding officer, "No problem, Colonel. Our visitor was just leaving. Isn't that right, Flagg?"

"I'll go; but I want you to know that I've got my eyes on you," his angry gaze swept across everyone in the room. "All of you." Monica Parnelli flinched when he stared at her.

"Colonel Flagg, if you will wait in my office, I'll be there in a few minutes," Potter spoke with courtesy.

As the officer turned to leave, Fannin MacAllister, who was trying to walk with the crutches, stumbled into him. He hit the other man's shoulder hard enough to knock him backwards a couple of steps.

"Sorry, Colonel," he drawled innocently. "I don't reckon I've figured out how to make these things work, yet."

* * *

After the officer had left the hospital building, Colonel Potter turned to the assembled group. "Just what in Hannah's name is going on here? Parnelli comes running to me in a panic. The tension in this room is so thick you can cut it with a scalpel. And, all I can see in here is a solid wall of MacAllisters."

Arching an eyebrow at his younger siblings, Crockett asked, "Y'all care to explain any of that?"

"The colonel was visiting, sir," Sarabeth replied simply. "But he decided it was time to leave."

"Uh-huh," Potter stated, not believing a word of her explanation. He turned toward the exit, "Colonel, I'd like some clarification, later."

"Certainly, Colonel," MacAllister agreed. After the senior officer left, the oldest Texan spoke to his family members, "Sarabeth, put that syringe back where you got it. And Fannin, return those crutches to that Marine."

Grinning, Fannin handed the crutches to the soldier, "Thanks, Sarge." He hopped back over to his bed and sat down.

As Sarabeth set the medication on the desk, Hawkeye Pierce asked, "What did you have in there?"

"A sedative," she replied nonchalantly. "The colonel seemed upset. I just had something ready…in case he needed _calming_ down."

Wincing, Crockett tried to return to a prone position. Immediately, the nurses were at his side. "Don't move," Kellye admonished as she worked with Sarabeth to ease him back onto the bed.

"Easy, big brother," his sister spoke at the same time. "Be still. You shouldn't be moving around like that." Catching her brother's amused expression, she looked sharply at him. "What?" She demanded.

The man grinned. He spoke to the doctor, "Looks like I'm out-numbered."

"I believe you are," Pierce agreed with a grin of his own. "But having a couple of young ladies worrying over you is a very nice way to be out-numbered."

"That's for sure and for certain," Crockett MacAllister replied.

Doctor Pierce examined the man's injuries. "Well, you haven't pulled anything loose, this time. You're lucky Sheriff Hawkeye happened along," the man drawled. "That low-down, good-for-nothing, son-of-a-biscuit won't come moseying around here again."

Shaking his head in amazement at the New Englander's attempted accent, Fannin asked, in a teasing voice, "Sister mine, were you really fixin' to jab that needle into his butt?"

"Brother mine, were you really fixin' to knock him upside his head with those crutches?" She countered.

The siblings grinned at each other. "In a New York minute," they replied together, in all seriousness.

The oldest MacAllister sighed in exasperation, "Flagg is lucky he survived being in the same room with you two hotheads."

"He's just lucky that we listen to our big brother," Fannin retorted.

At Crockett's snort of disbelief, Sarabeth added, "Sometimes."


	7. 7

SEVEN

* * *

"Colonel Flagg is in your office, sir," Corporal Klinger reported as his commander entered his outer office. "Is everything all right?" He and Father Mulcahy had been working at his desk, trying to determine how supplies could be delivered to the orphanage---in spite of the travel restrictions---when Nurse Parnelli had burst into the office looking for Potter. After they directed her towards the colonel's quarters, she had left without any explanations as to her haste.

"Everything's fine, Klinger;" Potter replied, "considering we have a powder keg with a lit fuse beside it. Bring us some coffee," he opened the door to his inner office and added, "and bring me some aspirins."

* * *

"…I was just leaving the mess tent, when Parnelli came running out of the colonel's office and said there was trouble in post-op," Hawkeye Pierce was recounting his experience. "Flagg was there, standing at the end of the colonel's bed, taunting him about something. He didn't notice that Sarabeth was edging in from one side and that her other brother was closing in from the other side. If he had made one step towards MacAllister; both of them would have jumped him." He laughed, "Even our mousy Kellye looked like she was ready to join in."

"Pierce," Charles Winchester questioned, "outside of the operating room, have you ever actually talked to Lieutenant Kellye?" He and B J Hunnicutt had been playing a game of chess when the surgeon had returned to the Swamp. He moved his bishop to a different square on the board, and announced, "Check."

Leaning back in his chair in satisfaction, the man continued, "Once you get her started, she is anything but timorous. I have rather enjoyed my conversations with her; unlike my conversations with you."

"But, I enjoy talking to you, Charles," Pierce paused and then retorted, "about as much as I enjoy having a root canal done." He flopped down on his cot and resumed his story, "Anyway, Flagg was as asinine, as usual. He left with his customary threats about proving my membership in the Communist party." Hawkeye shook his head in disgust. "He wouldn't recognize Chairman Mao if he came up to introduce himself. He's an inept idiot."

"Hawk," the man with the mustache spoke for the first time. He was looking over the game board intensely. "You probably shouldn't antagonize Flagg so much. He is persistent. You told me that he actually used the x-ray machine to break the cast on his arm; just to be able to continue some investigation, remember?"

"So he's a persistent inept idiot."

"Who can probably make a great deal of trouble for those he does not like," B J observed. He moved his queen into position and grinned at his opponent, "Checkmate."

* * *

"…And then her other brother stumbled into Colonel Flagg and nearly knocked him down." Inside the mess tent, after her shift had ended, Monica Parnelli was reporting the incident to some of the nurses, "He claimed it was an accident but I'm sure it was deliberate."

"Hawkeye says Flagg is some kind of government spy," Liza Campbell contributed.

"He gives me the willies," Christie Baker remarked with a shiver, "especially when he stares fixedly in your direction."

"He sure does," Parnelli admitted softly. And then gathering her tray, she announced, "I'm going to get a shower andtry to catch a nap---that is, if Hernandez isn't in there taking up all the room. I'll be so glad when I can move into the new tent…all by myself."

"Hey, what makes you think you're going to be assigned to that tent?" Jeanette Thompson challenged.

"Yeah. Why are you so special?" demanded Sandra Smith.

The other nurses clamored for an explanation as well.

The woman smiled at them, enjoying their indignation. "Because I put in a request for it," she announced smugly as she left the table and walked towards the door.

* * *

Outside the nurses' shower, Lieutenant Parnelli dismissed the guard and stepped inside the tent. Remembering the expressions on their faces, she smiled to herself again. Placing her bathing supplies on the shelf, she began to undress. Hearing the door open behind her, she turned and gasped in stunned surprise.

"Colonel Flagg! What are you doing here!" Hastily refastening her blouse, the nurse spoke nervously, "I thought you left hours ago."

"How long is MacAllister going to be here?" The CID officer questioned.

"Usually we ship the wounded out to an Evac. Hospital after a day or two," she replied. "But the colonel said, as long as we didn't need the bed, he could stay here."

"How long?" Determined to get his information, the CID officer approached the woman. She backed away from him warily.

"I'll scream," she warned.

Giving her a withering look, Flagg replied, "If I chose to, you'd be dead before you could open your mouth." Seeing her frightened features, he asked again, "How long is MacAllister going to be here?"

Still intimidated by his menacing posture, she replied, "Captain Hunnicutt plans to keep him here another six or seven days."

"And the pilot?"

"He'll be released tomorrow. But, he's already said that he's going to stay as long as his brother does."

"Good. Now, tell me what you know about Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce…."

* * *

"…And, remember, if you tell anyone I was here; it will be the last thing you ever say…." 


	8. 8

EIGHT

* * *

Jan. 8th: 0700 hours

"Here's another request for a change in tent assignment!" Major Houlihan showed her second-in-command nurse a sheet of paper, "I've received one from almost every nurse in this camp. I'm going to keep them so busy, they won't have time to breathe…let alone write any more requisitions!"

"Parnelli sure did kick the ant hill, didn't she?" The Texan commented. "But to be fair, Major, everyone is getting tired of having five people to a tent." She added with a grin, "Including me."

"I'm running a hospital here, not a hotel! Nurses can't just come to me and dictate where they want to sleep."

"Maybe we should be grateful that Captain Pierce hasn't put in his request, too. I'm sure there are some nurses that he wouldn't mind sharing a tent with."

Margaret Houlihan nodded in agreement, "No doubt about that. I keep removing that 'hug a doctor' application of his from the bulletin board and he keeps putting it back. He has some nerve!"

"Sounds like he's _struck a nerve_ with you," MacAllister grinned again. "And speaking along those lines, have you noticed that Parnelli seems more nervous, lately?"

"That's because she's afraid of what I'm going to do to her," the senior nurse answered, "with good cause, too."

"There's something more to it than that. She's as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I asked her yesterday but she won't confide in me. If we're through here, ma'am, I reckon I'll try to catch Father Mulcahy before breakfast. Maybe he can find out what's bothering her."

* * *

"Are you certain there's nothing you'd like to talk to me about, my child?" Frances Mulcahy asked kindly. "I really am good at listening…and keeping things confidential."

"Well, I…" Nurse Parnelli began but stopped herself. She shook her head. "Nothing; there's nothing I want to talk about."

"All right, Monica. Please remember that I'm always available to lend an ear if you ever want to bend an ear," the man smiled at her.

* * *

What's this?" Hawkeye Pierce gestured to the grayish lump of breakfast material that was about to be spooned onto his tray.

"Porridge," Igor Stimenski, the cook's assistant, replied, apologetically.

"It looks like cement," the dark-haired man wearing the Stetson replied, "guaranteed to harden your arteries and everything else." He curled his lip in protest, "I'll pass." He watched as the unappetizing conglomeration was returned to the serving bowl. "I may pass out," he added and quickly moved away.

After selecting some sausages and toast, Hawkeye poured himself a cup of coffee and headed for a table. Sitting on the bench beside a red-haired woman, he grinned seductively at her, "Good morning, beautiful. Come here often?"

"Every time I want to be nauseated," the woman remarked with her customary drawl. "I see you're braving the sausages."

"If I can't eat them, I can always use them for tent stakes," he replied glibly. He speared one with his fork and brought it up to his nose.

"Hawkeye, please don't start sniffing, and describing, your food again," B J Hunnicutt shuddered in revulsion at the thought.

"I have to," Pierce defended himself. "That way, my stomach gets advance warning of the coming attractions."

"Hawk, if you won't give us a running commentary," Sarabeth offered, "I'll let you have some of my strawberry preserves. Deal?"

"Deal," the man from Maine grinned as he accepted the bribe. He also accepted the jar of homemade jelly that was passed to him. Slathering some on his toast, Hawkeye started in on a different train of thought, "How many birthdays do we have in January?"

MacAllister thought for a moment, "Three. I'd have to check the roster to make sure. Why?"

"Because," he leaned forward to explain, "we need some more entertainment around here. Why don't we have a joint celebration for everyone's birthday each month? We could have their families back home send a photograph of each person at a younger age and then we could put them on display. And laugh at how we looked back then. It would be great!" Hawkeye Pierce was warming up to his subject, "We could have a dance and serve cake and punch and things. And, we could donate all of the proceeds to Sister Teresa's orphans."

B J Hunnicutt, his tent mate, interrupted his presentation, "You aren't planning any more 'secret' funding projects, are you?"

"Not this time."

Grinning at him, the woman teased, "You sure, Hawkeye? Luther Rizzo would probably like to see Zola Mae and little Billy Bubba. I know the colonel would love to see his grandkids. And, I have a new niece that I haven't held, yet."

Holding up his hand, Pierce vowed, "No more Tokyo Children's Fund." With a conspirator's smile, he asked MacAllister, "So, when can you start calling people back home to get those photos on their way?"

"I doubt we can get them back in time for a January party. We can try; but, it took a good two months to get all those Christmas packages sent here. We might be able to have a party for both months, in middle to late February, however."

"We'll do that, then," the man decided. He looked around the mess tent. "Hey, Klinger," the man called to the company clerk, "Do you think you can arrange to have a big cake, decorations, food, drinks and all the fixings here for February?"

"Sure, Captain. Whatever you want," the corporal responded without enthusiasm. He shuffled gloomily out of the mess tent.

The three schemers looked at each other in surprise.

"What's with him? He's been moody for a couple of days now," B J noted.

"If his face gets any longer, he's going trip over it," Hawkeye added.

Retrieving her jelly jar, MacAllister stood and picked up her meal tray, "I reckon I'll go find out what's bothering him."

"Leave that here," Pierce protested, "I might get into a _jam_ and need _preserve-_ing."

"You eat all of my Mama's preserves and you'll be in a _pickle_," Sarabeth retorted.

* * *

MacAllister caught up with the company clerk as he stared at the notices on the bulletin board. He moved away as she approached. Looking over the papers, she didn't think he had been interested in the suntan lotion or the 'hug a doctor' proposal. "Corporal," she called to him. Reluctantly, he turned back to face her. "Are you going to sign up for the sergeant's exam? Colonel Potter said you were eligible for it."

"Nah," he replied remorsefully, "I'm too stupid to take it."

"Who told you that?" She asked.

He shrugged, "Captain Pierce said…."

MacAllister spoke angrily, "Captain Pierce told you that?"

The company clerk shook his head, "Not in those words. But he's right. I'm not that smart. The only reason I got out of high school was because the teachers were tired of dealing with me."

"Max, just between you and me---as friends---and not as Army property; I like Hawkeye but sometimes he acts like a horse's rear end. You're one of the cleverest, most inventive men I've ever met. Of course you can pass that test!"

The man from Toledo said, "I doubt it. I don't know enough about math and government and history and all that kind of stuff."

"So come to the tutorial sessions," Sarabeth urged.

"What tutorial sessions?"

"I've already told the colonel that I would hold tutoring classes for the general topics. And Crockett said that, as long as he was here, he would go over the military criteria for anyone who was interested. You've got two MacAllister's backing you. How can you lose?"

"You really think I can do this?" The corporal asked. He was still uncertain about his chances.

The lieutenant nodded confidently, "I really think you can do this. Sergeant Klinger has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"


	9. 9

NINE

* * *

Jan. 8th: 0830 hours

"…Ever been fly fishing?" Colonel Potter asked the man who was sitting up in his hospital bed. He had stopped by for a visit. The two officers were exchanging fish stories.

"No, sir, I never have." Crockett MacAllister replied. "It's something I'd like to try, though."

"There's nothing better than standing in a fresh water stream and bringing in a trout on a fly reel," the older man observed. "I tie most of my own flies," he added. "It seems to be more fun, that way."

"I prefer grubs, myself," Fannin MacAllister commented from his nearby cot.

His brother responded dryly, "The only reason you used grubs because you liked the way our little sister squealed when you dropped them down the back of her shirt."

"True," the younger MacAllister laughed.

"I've done that to my female cousins, a few times, myself," Potter admitted with a smile of remembrance. "I also got into a _boat load_ of trouble for it."

"Mine was always more like an _armada_," Fannin grinned. "There's no telling how many cords of wood I've had to chop just because those grub worms kept jumping out of my hand."

"Sound like a _fish tail _to me," Hawkeye Pierce remarked. Sitting near his patient's bed, the physician was examining the man's injured leg.

"So how is it, Doc? Am I good to go?" Captain MacAllister asked.

"Your leg is almost healed," Pierce announced. "There won't be much of a scar…thanks to my suture _tying_ skills. Since you're ready to _ship_ out, I'll release you. Just keep that bandage clean. And stay away from stray bullets you meet in the night. You don't know where they've been."

Corporal Klinger, clipboard in hand, walked into the hospital ward and spoke to his commanding officer, "Colonel Potter, we have a problem." Not giving the senior officer a chance to speak, the company clerk added, "But being a soon-to-be Sergeant in the Army, I have a solution."

"All right, Klinger, I'll _bite,_" Potter spoke. Seeing the man's confusion, he added, "Let's hear it, son."

"Well, sir," the corporal began, "The evac. bus just left. Normally, we would close down the extra wards and just use the post-op area for any remaining patients. However, if we keep the VIP tent open as a ward, we can move the colonel over there. That way, he can have the privacy he needs to talk with his officers. And, we can save fuel by not having to heat this entire building. And, because we're short of officer's quarters at the moment, the captain can stay in there, as well. That way he won't have to bunk with the enlisted men."

"So, what do you think, sir?" Klinger asked hopefully.

"Sounds good to me," the commander said. "How about it, Colonel? Are you willing to share a tent with the captain?"

"I reckon I can put up with my brother for a few days," MacAllister agreed with a grin.

"What about you, Major?" Colonel Potter called to the head nurse who was now on duty.

"I think it's a fine idea, sir," Major Houlihan stated. "My nurses have too much time on their hands, right now. I can use the opportunity to have them completely clean all hospital areas."

"All right, then. I'll talk to Hunnicutt. If he approves the move, we'll transfer you to the VIP tent," Potter decided. "Now, Klinger, have you been able to get any extra fuel for our heaters?"

The man shrugged, "I've been alternately screaming at and pleading with HQ for days, Colonel. No one seems to know anything about any available fuel. I've even tried to do some conning and swapping; but, it's no good."

"Well, Corporal, I suggest you use your soon-to-be Sergeant problem solving skills to solve this problem."

* * *

True to her word, Margaret Houlihan put her nurses to work. Every surface in the hospital building was scrubbed and sanitized. The medical supply storeroom was rearranged and reorganized. The charts and manuals were reviewed and updated. Even their living quarters were thoroughly cleaned. The smell of disinfectant was everywhere; and not a dust mote was to be found.

There were however, few arguments amongst the women; by the end of the day, they were too tired to lift a finger, let along raise a voice in discontent.

The nurses who had post-op duty were considered the lucky ones.


	10. 10

TEN

* * *

Jan. 10th: 0900 hours

Captain Sterling, on his daily visit to the 4077th, brought a large stack of reports for Colonel MacAllister to review. The frown on the officer's face grew deeper as he read each page. Shaking his head in disbelief, the Texan muttered something, in Spanish, under his breath.

His assistant nodded in agreement, "I can't believe they're lowering the level of surveillance. You called it right, sir."

"Unfortunately, yes," the senior officer shrugged. "Sterling, Fannin and I will be flying out of here after this briefing. We'll start reorganizing as soon as I get back."

"Yes, sir." The man grinned at his commanding officer, "I take it you haven't told your sister you're leaving yet."

"Nope," the man replied with a grin of his own. "Care to stick around for the fireworks?"

* * *

After his assistant left with his latest instructions, Colonel MacAllister requested a meeting with the medical commander and the senior members of his staff. The others were already waiting inside as he was wheeled into the outer office.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Sarabeth asked in concern.

"I'm up to this," the man answered. "But, I sure wish you would give me back my pants!" Annoyed, he indicated the hospital pajamas and bathrobe that had been issued to him.

"When you're released as ambulatory; I'll find something long enough for you to wear. In the meantime, you'll just have to give your briefing in your _briefs_," his sister snickered.

"At least he's ready for _night_ maneuvers," Fannin added. Wearing his uniform, he grinned broadly as his older brother glared at him.

With an exasperated sigh, the Texan shook his head. "Let's just get this over with," he stated seriously as he pulled himself out of the wheelchair.

* * *

"Y'all need to be informed about some recent events," the Army Intelligence officer surveyed the medical personnel who were crowded into the commander's office. "I admit that I feel silly conducting a military briefing while wearing pajamas, a bathrobe and slippers," Crockett MacAllister grimaced slightly. "However, I reckon I'll just have to ride the horse I draw."

The man returned his attention to the people who were waiting, "A little background information is necessary. For several months now, we have been monitoring the career advancements of a man in the Chinese Army...Zheng He."

"We always find it interesting whenever a minor official experiences a rapid rise in rank---all the way up to General---_especially_ when his commanding officers and political opponents begin experiencing inexplicable accidents at the same time."

MacAllister continued his explanation, "Now, the original Zheng He was a 15th century explorer with a thirst for adventure. This modern day namesake only has a thirst for blood. Like every successful despot, he is charismatic. And, he has won the support of the majority of the Chinese rabble by providing appealing scapegoats: '_the evil, treacherous round-eyes who have invaded the territory of the Glorious Regime_'. He has ordered his troops to win this fight against the '_round-eyes_' by any means possible."

"Y'all have seen the results of his encouragement. So have other medical and combat units in the U. N. peace keeping forces: the increased brutality on the battlefields, the vicious maiming of men who are already injured...men who have already surrendered...men who are shown no-quarter."

Major Houlihan nodded in understanding, "You're right, sir. The injuries we've been seeing recently are far more extensive... and more malicious...than usual."

"Yes, they are," the red-haired man commented. "Back in September, we began hearing disturbing rumors. In December, those rumors changed into disturbing truths. Zheng He has been increasing his standing within the Chinese Army by sharpening his focus. In addition to the excessive cruelty already being shown, his soldiers have been ordered to destroy the '_demons_' who walk with the '_round-eyes_'."

"Demons? What demons?" Captain Pierce wanted to know. "It sounds like he's been drinking too much rice wine."

"Even if that were the case, Captain," MacAllister replied, "the results are still reprehensible. The majority of the common soldiers in the Chinese Army---and the North Korean Army, for that matter---are conscripted farm workers and day laborers. They are illiterate and superstitious. Many of them believe in evil spirits who roam the earth spreading destruction and death."

"Zheng He has convinced them that the only way to cleanse the land of these evil spirits is to get rid of their demonic representatives...the people who are the most obviously non-Asian...fair-haired or darker skinned people."

"That explains the hair concealed within a hat order," Major Winchester ventured.

"Anyone...and everyone...who stand out are possible targets," the senior MacAllister confirmed. "The opinion of most of the people assigned to monitor this general was that he would limit his actions to fighting units." Crockett said, "I didn't happen to agree with that consensus. So, when the situation escalated, military _and_ medical outfits in my sector were put on full alert."

Colonel MacAllister, who was leaning against a file cabinet, walked over to the window. For a few moments, he stood and stared at the view outside. Rubbing his injured shoulder, he turned to face the group, "I would like to say that my assessment of the situation was wrong. It wasn't."

"And, speaking as a brother, I would like for the ladies to leave the room before I go any further." He permitted himself a small grin when he noticed the women's reactions to his words, "However, speaking as a colonel, I'm not going to order them to leave."

Neither nurse left her seat.

"Your response doesn't surprise me any. However, what I have to say _is_ very unsettling," the man warned.

"We're prepared, Colonel," the head nurse asserted.

"I doubt it," he muttered, grimly. "Nevertheless..." The officer addressed the group, "Most of y'all lack the security clearance to hear this; so I would prefer that this story remains inside this office. It will soon be common knowledge, however."

"On December 26th, we received an urgent request for assistance from British Army Intelligence. One of their jeeps was missing. They had found the bodies of the driver and the guard. They had been slaughtered. But the two passengers were gone. They were a couple of nurses who were on their way to a Christmas Eve outing. They were both young, pretty...blondes."

"Oh, no!" Houlihan exclaimed.

Turning pale, Captain Hunnicutt whispered, "Colonel, I have the feeling I'm going to wish you had ordered all of us out of the room."

"It is _not_ a pleasant topic," MacAllister agreed. "They had been missing for nearly two days by the time we were notified. We have been conducting a very extensive search for those women ever since."

"You _have_ found them, haven't you?" Hesitantly, Father Mulcahy asked.

"It was extremely difficult to track them down. But, yes. We finally located them. Deep inside North Korean territory---in one of Zheng He's special camps. They were being used as...as..._rewards_...for his soldiers," the Texan spat out the words in angry distaste. "In fact, their presence was confirmed by one of those brutes when he bragged about what he done to the '_straw-haired demons_' they had captured."

Glancing at the horrified expressions on the faces of the people in Potter's office, the soldier continued his account, "The day after that confirmation, on January 4th, a joint rescue mission was initiated. My squad was to go in first...eliminate any sentries we might encounter...and free those women. We had also discovered they were holding five men prisoners. We were to get all of the captives safely away before the main attack on the camp began."

"However; '_the best-laid schemes o' Mice an' Men gang aft agley._' (Robert Burns)", the man quoted. "Anyway, we managed to get them all out---with only minor injuries."

"Your definition of minor is different than mine," Sarabeth observed softly.

"Will they be all right?" Mulcahy asked.

"All of them required hospitalization. The men will probably recover. The women..." the soldier sighed, "The women are going to need more than just a medical doctor's help."

"I know a good psychiatrist...Major Sidney Freedman," Colonel Potter offered.

"Yes, he's already been contacted," MacAllister stated. "He was hopeful for their recovery."

"Now, the question is: What will Zheng He do next? He was wounded in that attack. He lost his..._play toys_. He lost several of his loyal officers. He lost his base and all of the weapons he had stockpiled there. And, perhaps the most important...he lost face. To the Chinese, that is one of the worst possible things that can happen to someone."

With a knowing grin, Fannin commented, "He did gain a new nightmare, however."

"Yes. I sincerely hope he finds his slumber haunted," Crockett returned with his own wolfish grin.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that---after the alarm was sounded and while you were covering the retreat of your men---you were, very bravely and very brazenly, cussing out him out in Chinese, would it?" Sarabeth MacAllister questioned mildly.

Instead of responding, Crockett glared at Fannin, angrily. His brother shrugged and remained silent.

"Answer my question, big brother," the woman warned. "You were _not_ wearing your helmet, either, were you?"

The Texan replied, laconically, "Nope."

"And all this time I've been thinking that my Mama hadn't raised any _stupid_ children."

"I know it was stupid, Sarabeth," Crockett MacAllister admitted. "But it was also a very good psychological weapon. Zheng He has been using the threat of '_demons_' to gain his position. And, he has been butchering our people with impunity. I wanted him...and his men...to realize that **THE** biggest, meanest, maddest, most dangerous '_fire-haired demon_' they could ever possibly imagine was after all of them...and after Zheng He in particular."

The youngest MacAllister asked, "And not even bullets will stop this '_demon_'?"

"That's right. I told Zheng He I'd be back for him. And I told him that his men would hear his screams for the next 1,000 years."

"I especially liked it," the pilot offered, "when you told him you were going to pull his intestines out through his eye sockets and then make him eat them."

Sarabeth nodded, "I reckon he should sleep soundly after all that."

"I reckon so," the colonel agreed.

"Wait a minute," Pierce interrupted. "Listen to yourselves! You're casually talking about eviscerating people. And, earlier, you said you eliminated the sentries. How? I'm sure it wasn't by merely tying them up. How did you eliminate them?"

"Do you really want to know?" MacAllister asked.

"Yes," Pierce insisted.

"We killed them," the soldier stated matter-of-factly.

"Just like that: _we killed them_. Why doesn't that bother you?" The doctor demanded. "They're brutal. So you have to be brutal, too?"

"Doc, I reckon you'd better stick to medicine," Fannin MacAllister growled.

"Pierce, you're out of line!" Colonel Potter spoke at the same time.

"No. I want to know," the man persisted. "Why does that give you the right to kill someone else in return? Don't you understand? The killings have to stop somewhere."

"Look, Pierce; you're a surgeon," MacAllister tried to explain. "When you have a patient with cancer, do you just leave the tumor alone and hope it will go away? Or do you remove the diseased tissue to preserve the healthy?"

"You're talking about cells. I'm talking about people."

"These are the same sadistic people who continually tortured their prisoners and repeatedly raped those women! What the hell did you want me to do!" Colonel MacAllister responded angrily. All the rage he had been suppressing, ever since he learned of the missing women, erupted. "Knock on their god-blasted door and ask them to return our people to us!"

"Or maybe you wanted me to just wait around until the thrice-damned bastards got tired of torturing them and then pick up the remains after they tossed them out!"

"You weren't there, Pierce!" MacAllister exclaimed furiously. "You didn't have to go into that filthy hovel and find those women chained to a post! You didn't have to look into their disfigured faces and realize that there was _nothing_ left alive behind those vacant eyes!"

"Damn it, man! You...!" Crockett struggled to regain control of his anger. "Anyway," he took a deep breath and grew calmer---overlooking Pierce's outburst---and his own, "what we think is going to happen next..."

The company clerk knocked at the door and entered, "Excuse the interruption. Colonel MacAllister, there's a call for you. He says it's urgent."

Looking tired, Crockett said in an undertone, "It always is." Resolutely, he squared his shoulders, "On my way, Corporal. Fannin," MacAllister ordered as he left the office, "finish up in here."

"Yes, sir," his younger brother acknowledged, "In deference to the ladies, I'm going to assume that he meant finish the briefing. Not finish the cussing out which is so richly deserved." He stared, infuriated, at the Chief Surgeon.

"I still say..." the doctor began.

"Pierce!" Potter raised his voice. "You've said enough."

"Get on with it, big brother," Sarabeth added.

"All right. Some people in Army Intelligence think that, with his camp destroyed and his troops demoralized, Zheng He won't be a threat to us any longer. Crockett doesn't agree with that. He says he's acquired a taste for power. And he's not going to give it up so easily. That he's going to crawl into a hole somewhere, lick his wounds and emerge again…soon."


	11. 11

ELEVEN

* * *

Outside Colonel Potter's office, near Corporal Klinger's desk, Crockett MacAllister was slumped against the wall. He opened his eyes and straightened his stance as the somber group of people began to file out of the inner room.

Taking one look at him, his siblings moved to stand on either side of him in silent support. "I need to talk to Potter. Then, I want to talk to you, and Kellye," the officer informed his sister in a tired voice. "You first."

Captain Hunnicutt approached the company clerk. "Klinger," he began, "the first chance you get, will you call Mill Valley? I feel like I need to talk to Peg; just to check on her, and Erin; and to tell her I love her."

"And I want you to place a call to Boston, as well," Major Winchester added. "I'd like to hear from Honoria."

"While you're at it…call Maine, too," the Chief Surgeon announced. "I want to see how Dad's doing."

All of the medical personnel wanted assurances that their loved ones were still safe.

"I'll get right on it," the clerk stated. He reached for the phone line to begin the long process of contacting folks back home.

When the commanding officer of the MASH unit appeared at the doorway, the G-2 officer spoke to him, "Colonel Potter, I need to talk to you."

"Certainly, Colonel," Potter held the door open for the other man. "And, Klinger, add my name to that list."

* * *

When MacAllister returned, he sank into the wheelchair that was waiting for him, "Okay, little sister, let's go have that talk."

Alarmed by his weakness, she said, "Brother mine, Fannin and I will take you to your tent. After you rest for a couple of hours, then we'll talk."

"We'll talk now," he stated.

"Later; after you get some rest," she reiterated. "Flagg isn't the only colonel I'm willing to sedate, you know," Sarabeth arched an eyebrow at him, in warning.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"It's not often that I get to boss you around," she admitted with a grin. "However, it's my professional opinion that you _really_ do need to rest for a while, big brother!"

"All right," Crockett acquiesced.

* * *

Inside the tent, the nurse helped the injured man back onto his cot, providing a pillow for his shoulder and blanket for his legs. He protested softly, "I'm not an invalid, you know."

"Maybe not; but you were closer to being a corpse than you realize, big brother," Sarabeth stated matter-of-factly.

"Is there anything else you want me to do today?" Fannin asked, "Like having a little _talk _with Hawkeye Pierce?"

"Stay away from Pierce," his brother directed.

"His hide needs to nailed to the barn wall," the younger man muttered.

"Fannin, I mean it!" Colonel MacAllister rumbled a warning.

"Okay. Okay. I promised Sherry that I'd take her to the Officer's Club for one last round of jukebox dancing, anyway. Holler if you change your mind about Pierce."

After her brother had left, the redheaded woman grinned at her oldest brother. "Fannin and Sherry Riggs are becoming quite an item," she announced mischievously.

"Really?" Crockett asked, with heightened interest, "Anything serious developing between those two?"

"Probably not. But, I'm so glad that he's finally started seeing someone again. When Debbie left him---just a week after the funerals for their kids.…" She shook her head in angry remembrance, "I'm still furious at the way she treated him."

"Me, too." Unexpectedly, the man chuckled but cut it off abruptly. Lifting an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation, his sister stared at him. He whispered merrily, "It could be worse, you know. He could be interested in Parnelli."

She sputtered with laughter, "That would be an interesting choice," she agreed cheerfully.

With a sigh, Crockett moved to a more serious topic, "Sarabeth, since they think Zheng He's out of the picture, the alerts and the travel restrictions are going to be lifted. But, I still want you to wear your hat, and stick close to the compound, you hear me?"

"I hear you," she replied.

"And watch out for Flagg, too. He's already been jumped on for that fiasco at the Chinese camp. He'll be trying to redeem himself. He's desperate and he's dangerous," her brother instructed, "stay clear of him."

Nodding in understanding, his sister asked, "You're fixin' to leave, aren't you?"

"I have to. You know that."

Sarabeth looked at him dejectedly, "Yes, I know that. I just…." Shaking her head, she added, "Crockett, you're strong…and you're _hard-headed_," she emphatically emphasized the word. "But it's only been five days!" She gazed at him with both love and concern. "You have got to give your body time to heal!"

"Time is a luxury I don't have," the officer answered.

"Well," the Texan bent down to kiss her brother and said, "At least you have time to get some sleep."

* * *

"Would you like some of Mama's hot chocolate?" The youngest MacAllister asked as she set down the tray she was carrying. "She sent me some more mix for Christmas."

From his bed, the older MacAllister gave a small grin, "I'd like some. I don't reckon you have any of her 'cow pie' cookies, do you?"

"I reckon I do," the woman informed him as she poured canned milk into the coffee pot and placed it on the heater top to boil. She opened a tin of cookies and handed him some before sitting in the chair next to him. "I asked Kellye to come over in about thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he replied. "But, I'm not looking forward to saying goodbye."

Seeing his sad expression, Sarabeth spoke softly, "You have a lot of things bothering you, right now, brother mine. Things that...maybe…you need to discuss with someone?"

"I already went into more detail than I had planned on, little sister. And my language..." He shook his head, "I shouldn't have let Pierce get to me like that."

"Why not? There's no law that says you can't lose your temper every now and then, big brother," the woman stated. "Hawkeye _is_ a genuine jackass, some times. And, Crockett, despite what he believes," the Texan looked into her brother's green eyes, "I _know_ that the things you had to do bother you."

"I also know," she gave him a sympathetic smile, "that you will do them again...if you have to. You're the one who taught me that: '_the_ _only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing_.' (Edmund Burke) You know that wickedness must be destroyed---whenever it's encountered---in order for goodness to be preserved. Hawkeye, however, only sees the individual on the operating table. He only sees that one person's suffering."

The soldier asked, "So, which one of us is right?"

Sarabeth smiled at her brother, "Y'all both are."

* * *

"The way those women were treated..." The man shook his head angrily. Setting down his hot drink, he continued, solemnly, "But the worst thing was...I kept seeing _your_ eyes staring back at me from their faces. I kept hearing _your_ screams instead of theirs. And, baby sister, if that had been you, I...oh, God!" The man grimaced at the thought.

"Crockett..._Crockett Allen_! Listen to me!" The woman shook his undamaged arm roughly to get his attention. "You _must_ listen to me, big brother! That wasn't me! It _won't_ be me, I promise!"

"Kitten," MacAllister pulled her into a tight embrace, "I sure wish you were back home, right now."

"I wish we all were," she whispered.

After a few moments, Sarabeth hesitantly asked, "Are you going after this butcher?"

The officer shrugged, "A I has decided to withdraw most of the monitoring teams assigned to him. But that's not going to stop me. I've been thinking of ways to remind him that I'm still after him." His determined features did not promise peaceful sleep for a certain Chinese official.

The woman's answering grin could not be called friendly, either, "Spook him good, big brother."

"I intend to, little sister. I intend to."


	12. 12

TWELVE

* * *

Jan. 17th: 1330 hours

_Dearest Peg,_

_I love you. Did you know that? Just in case you've forgotten, I thought I'd tell you._

_The past few days have actually been pretty good around here. First of all, we haven't had any new casualties since Fannin and Crockett returned to their outfit. Not having anyone injured to treat is always a welcomed occurrence._

_I would have liked for Crockett's shoulder to heal some more. However, he insisted he had to go. And I had no real reason to keep him any longer._

_I really enjoyed talking with Fannin while he was here. I found out that he likes motorcycles, too. We had a great time comparing the bikes we've ridden and sharing road experiences. Whenever Sarabeth would see us together, she would just roll her eyes, state: "_Y'all areboth crazy_." and walk away. You and Sarabeth are a lot alike in that aspect...but I love you, anyway. _

_Two days ago, she brought some packages over to the Swamp. She said they were belated Christmas gifts, which had only just arrived. There was a pair of calfskin gloves for each of us. _

_These gloves were made by "_Lupe, a little old man, who's three days older than dirt"_, according to our Texan. She says that he has hand-crafted the MacAllister saddles, boots and gloves for many years. He made these leather gloves from outlines of our hands that Sarabeth sent to him. _

_I remember when she did that. She had only been here about three days when she asked all the senior officers to let her trace our hands. She didn't explain why at the time. We just thought it was some idiosyncrasy of hers. Now we know._

_These gloves are fleece lined. And they fit perfectly. They are a little stiff but she says they'll soften up with wear. She also declared that we could not use them as stakes in poker games. She grinned at Charles when she said that. _

_The gloves are a welcome gift! My fingers are actually warm! Too bad we can't use them in the OR. But I intend to wear them everywhere else._

_That was the first time she had visited the Swamp since her brothers left. Crockett told us about something that happened that was really, really horrible, Peg. And Hawkeye had disagreed, rather strongly, with him about how parts of the situation were handled. Siding with her brother, Sarabeth hasn't been around as much as she usually is._

_However, it's probably not entirely by her choice. With no patients to take care of, Margaret and the rest of the nurses have all been very busy scrubbing every thing in camp; even though they did a thorough clean-up the other day._

_Since the films that Mulcahy ordered before Christmas finally came in; and since the colonel knew a rebellion was brewing, he gave everyone, except the perimeter guards, the afternoon off. So yesterday, we had a '_Movies in the Mess Tent Festival_'._

_Everyone dressed up in their finest off-duty clothes. Charles wore his ascot with his yachting cap. Monica and Hawkeye both wore Hawaiian shirts. Over her fatigues, Margaret was wearing a silk dressing gown that Colonel Hodges had sent to her. And Sarabeth wore the kimono that Charles had selected for her. They both looked pretty in their Oriental get-ups. We had popcorn, hot chocolate; and had sing-alongs when the films broke and needed to be spliced. It was great fun!_

_Another good thing: this morning, a tanker truck pulled into the compound. They were delivering nearly 1,000 gallons of gasoline and heating fuel. Even though Klinger was very busy trying to find ways to store all of that fuel; he seemed pleased with himself. We all were glad to see that truck! We have been cutting back on heat, sharing tents and trying to conserve fuel for weeks now._

_With all this extra fuel, that means that people can move back into their original tents. I like Father Mulcahy. He's a kind, sweet man; the gentlest soul I have ever encountered; but he snores like a lumberjack! Between him, and Charles---who has a rather sonorous snore, himself---and Hawkeye's moans and whimpers and mumblings, I haven't been getting much sleep._

_I know that Margaret and Sarabeth are glad to move back in their tents, too. Although, I heard that both of them had to do some intensive cleaning of their own to remove the rat droppings that had been deposited in their absence. _

_We are going to have a 'tent raising' tomorrow, or the next day. According to rumor, the arrival of more nurses is imminent. There have been some rather heated discussions among the women as to who would move into the new quarters and if there would be other changes in the sleeping arrangements. (And that may be another reason why they have been scrubbing the OR walls repeatedly.) _

_I haven't told anyone what Klinger told me. He said he overheard Sarabeth and Margaret deciding who should be quartered where. They agreed that the nurses, who have been here the longest, Baker and Kellye, should be the ones who get the new tent. And the new nurses will bunk with the women who are already here. _

_Our company clerk had been moping around here for a couple of days. He's perked back up, however. I hear that he's decided to try for the sergeant's exam. Good for him._

_I wish that I could be with you on your birthday, Peg. My thoughts are certainly with you. And, hopefully, my present will be there, too. It's going out with tomorrow's mail. I packed it very carefully. But, if you should happen to receive a box with broken glass that smells like lilacs; you'll know that it was once a bottle of bubble bath. If it does arrive intact; take a long, hot, suds-filled bath and think of me. I'll be the one who is wishing I could be there to wash your back for you. _

_There's some sort of commotion out in the compound. I have to go. _

_Bye, Peg. Kiss Erin for me. I love you both very much._

_B J

* * *

_

A Korean family was the focus of the commotion in the medical camp. In an ox drawn cart, covered by bloody hay, were two young children. They had found a land mine while playing in a field. Or rather, it had found them. Their anxious mother, and grandparents, pleaded for help.

Hawkeye Pierce examined the youngest child, a small girl with terror-filled eyes. He shook his head angrily, "Get a litter over here! This leg is almost completely severed. What do you have over there, Beej?"

"Internal injuries and a broken leg. Corpsman, get him over to pre-op," Captain Hunnicutt answered.

Hawkeye stopped another medic, "Find Winchester. Tell him I need him in the OR. And tell Margaret and Sarabeth to scrub, too!" As the two doctors ran, beside the stretchers, towards the hospital building, the Chief Surgeon swore, in frustrated anger, "God, I _hate_ this place!"


	13. 13

THIRTEEN

* * *

Doctor Hawkeye Pierce sat beside the bed of his latest patient. He and Charles Winchester had spent the better part of two hours trying to save the girl's leg. Despite their best efforts, they couldn't save it. There was just too much damage. And now, he was sitting here, trying to decide how to tell a six year old that their best wasn't good enough. That she would never be able to run, or skip, or even walk on two legs, again.

He rubbed his eyes wearily and looked at the sad faces of the girl's family. And how was he going to explain it them? He hated this senseless cruelty so much! He couldn't stand to see the sorrow in the mother's eyes. Couldn't stand to see only one foot under that blanket where there should have been two.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed as he stood abruptly. "I hate this place!" Storming out of the hospital, the man headed for the Swamp. Once inside, he slammed the door angrily and marched straight to the still. Today's events were a very good reason for having a drink…or two…or three.

* * *

"Care for another round, Beej?" Hawkeye Pierce was sloppily pouring himself another drink.

"Better not, I go on duty in a few minutes," the sandy-haired man replied. Worried, he looked at his tent mate, "Hawk, you probably shouldn't have any more, either."

"Why not?" The doctor asked in irritation. "Since I can't save the leg, why should I save the liquor?" He slurred his words.

"I'm just thinking about how long it takes for more 'swill' to accumulate when the still is completely drained," Hunnicutt answered mildly. He was trying to avoid an argument. He had been trying to avoid an argument for some time, now.

From his desk, Major Winchester spoke with animosity, "Pierce, you have been drinking for hours. Kindly pass out and stop annoying us!" He turned back to the letter he was writing, aggravated with the man who was weaving drunkenly on the edge of his cot.

"I'm annoying you!" The dark-haired surgeon replied heatedly. "You've been a boil on my butt since you first arrived. You sanctimonious, incompetent.…"

"Come on, Hawkeye," Hunnicutt tried to intervene, "don't start that."

"You stay out of this! You're sitting over there all smug and.…"

"Smug!" Although he rarely lost his temper, B J responded angrily, "Look, you can't.…"

All three were quickly embroiled in a loud argument.

* * *

Colonel Potter was walking towards the horse corral. He had just enough time to give Sophie a good brushing before it grew too dark. The camp priest was walking beside him. "I have a list of things the orphans can use, Colonel, if we have anything we can spare," Mulcahy was saying.

Stepping out into the chilly air, Major Houlihan and Lieutenant MacAllister left the hospital building. Despite the ease in restrictions, both women still kept their hair covered beneath their hats. The major was saying, "Colonel Blankenship was surprised to hear that they haven't been stationed here, yet. She said she was going to check on the delay…."

Everyone stopped in amazement at the angry shouts that were coming from the Swamp.

"What the Sam Hill?" Colonel Potter muttered. They started towards the doctors' tent.

The sounds of running feet stopped them again. Private Starr, who was coming from the direction of the camp perimeter, called out, "Colonel, there's a fight going on at Rosie's!" Lieutenant Baker, who was coming from the direction of the nurse's tents, called out, "Major, Riggs and Parnelli are getting into it!"

"Looks like we've got brush fires breaking out everywhere," Sarabeth commented wryly.

"Seems that way," the colonel agreed. He issued orders, "MacAllister, you see what's ruffling the nurses' feathers. Houlihan, you and Mulcahy, see if you can get those surgeons to simmer down. Starr, round up a couple of the camp guards and I'll calm things down at the cantina."

The MASH officers hastily separated to squelch their designated disturbances.

* * *

Hearing the raised voices in the nurses' quarters, MacAllister paused only long enough to say, "Thanks, Baker. Wait inside somewhere," before pulling open the door. "All right, y'all; what's going on in here?" The Texan drawled as she calmly closed the door behind her.

The women who were quarreling began to explain.

"Whoa up! One at a time," the second-in-command nurse responded, "Riggs, you go first."

"I had a letter from Fannin on top of my footlocker and it's gone! I walk in here and she's bending over it and acting guilty."

The other nurse protested, "I didn't take her stupid letter! I saw something moving over there and was looking to see what it was. And she comes in accusing me of stealing her stuff!"

* * *

"What's going on in here!" Major Houlihan demanded, in her best senior officer tone of voice, as she entered the Swamp. Father Mulcahy quietly closed the door behind them.

"Nothing, Margaret," Charles Winchester replied with his best Boston blue-blood enunciation, "Piece is simply having a temper tantrum because his self esteem has been bruised."

"My self esteem?" The surgeon responded. "That's coming from the man who has let his enormous ego replace his skill on numerous occasions; who gave a patient the wrong injection leaving me to revive him; who drugged Radar's mouse, Daisy, and who then practiced the same prescription on…."

"Hawk, don't!" Hunnicutt cut into his recital.

"How dare you!" Winchester shouted at the same time. "You self-centered…."

"Doctors, please," Mulcahy pleaded for calm, "You are forgetting that words can cut deeper than any scalpel!"

* * *

"Sit down, Corporal," the colonel directed as he closed the door to his office. He sat in his chair and stared, across his desk, at the newest member of his company. Pierce had observed that; although he seemed friendly enough, the man wasn't the brightest bulb in the lamp. And what he lacked in brains, he certainly made up for it in muscle. "Hitalski, you've only been here three days; and this is the second time I've had you in my office."

The new mechanic's assistant shrugged his massive shoulders. "The first time was a misunderstanding. See, he thought I wanted the top bunk; but I didn't. I had to straighten him out."

"Yes, that's what you stated before," Potter replied neutrally. He hadn't believed that story the first time he had heard it, either. "And what happened this evening?"

"They were cheating! I caught them switching dice!"

* * *

"Since we found the letter.…" Lieutenant MacAllister began.

"Near her bunk!"

"That doesn't mean I took it!"

"Enough!" The woman from Texas spoke sternly. "Since we found the letter; Riggs, I suggest you keep any personal items inside your footlocker. And, Parnelli, if you see anything moving in here again; you need to report it to the rodent control officer, immediately." She stared at the other nurses. "Now, both of y'all need to drop it. If there is so much as a squawk from either of you about this; both of y'all are going on report. Do y'all hear me?" She arched an eyebrow at them in warning.

* * *

"We all feel bad about that child, you know," Major Houlihan stated. "Hawkeye," the woman spoke softly, "there's a passage from a poem that I have always liked. It makes me feel better whenever I'm discouraged, or overwhelmed, by everything here."

"Margaret," Charles Winchester interrupted in surprise, "You like poetry?"

"Of course, I do. Especially some of Emily Dickinson's works," Continuing, she recited:

'_If I can ease one life the aching_

_Or cool one pain,_

_Or help one fainting robin_

_Unto his nest again,_

_I shall not live in vain._' (Emily Dickinson)

"Thank you, Miss Florence _Nightingale_," the captain scoffed. "The next time I come across a fainting _robin_, I'll remember that."

"Don't you see, Hawkeye?" The priest contributed, "We all knew we couldn't save that poor child's leg. But both of you tried your absolute best, anyway. You didn't give up on that child then. And you shouldn't give up on her now."

* * *

"I don't like trouble makers," Colonel Potter announced. "And I won't tolerate them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sure thing, sir," the corporal answered. He added, almost, but not quite, insolently, "Since I had signed up for the Sergeant's exam at my last assignment before I was transferred here, I'll still be able to take it, won't I?"

"If you qualify," Potter acknowledged, "you will be able to take it here."

"Oh, I'll qualify for it," the man asserted. "You can count on that!"


	14. 14

FOURTEEN

* * *

Jan. 17th: 2300

_'I tell you a tale tonight_

_Which a seaman told to me,_

_With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light,_

_And a voice as low as the sea.' _

Lieutenant MacAllister quoted the verse to the dog lying next to her chair. She had her feet propped up and two of them were settled very close to the heater. The wind outside was shaking the canvas walls. And the cold air filled the corners of the tent.

Trying to avoid sleep, and the nightmares she knew were coming, the woman had gathered a pile of clothing to repair. Her sewing kit was opened on her table. She threaded her needle, reached for a sock to mend and recited the next stanza:

_'You could almost hear the stars _

_Twinkling up in the sky,_

_And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars,_

_And the same old waves went by,'_ (Alfred Noyes)

A knock at her door interrupted her narration. "Come on in," she called.

Major Winchester, carrying his record player and some records, hurried inside, "Sarabeth, I know it is late. However, I saw your light; and I simply must get away from Pierce for a few minutes. May I seek refuge in here?"

"Of course, Charles; you're always welcome at the ranch house," she reminded him. "Has everything quieted down over there?" The woman asked.

Charles Winchester shook his head, "Margaret and Mulcahy did manage to calm things down for a while. After Hunnicutt went on duty, however; Pierce began walking on top of the furniture, again. From his cot, to his footlocker, across the door frame, to my footlocker, to my cot, to my desk, to the table, to Hunnicutt's bed, to his footlocker and back to his own cot, again. I'm hoping he makes himself vertiginous with his endless circling to collapse on his bed and pass out."

"I wish you and Hawkeye would try to understand each other a little better," MacAllister sighed.

"What's to understand? The man's insane."

"He just cares about things very deeply," she replied. "And he doesn't express himself, very well, either."

"He was expressing himself quite well, believe me," Winchester snorted in rebuttal. "And I still don't think he was actually concerned about the girl near as much as he was concerned about himself."

"Charles, all I can say is; everyone in that operating room knew there wasn't a snowball's chance of being able to reattach that leg. But y'all tried, anyway. And y'all did some mighty fine work just keeping her alive. I'm proud of both of y'all for your efforts." Smiling, she stated:

'_Beautiful hands are those that do_

_Work that is honest and brave and true,_

_Moment by moment the long day through._'(Ellen Allerton)

And, switching topics, she asked, "So what did you bring?" She added, uneasily, "You weren't planning to play something from Wagner or anything from 'The Dead Children' series, were you?"

"No. I brought Boccherini and Mozart."

"Their pieces are always restful. That's definitely what I need right now." Sarabeth looked at the small animal by her chair, "How about it, Ernie? Are you ready to switch from poetry to classical music?" The little dog opened one eye and then sleepily closed it again. "I reckon that's a yes, Charles."

"What were you reciting?"

"_The Admiral's Ghost_."

"Do you really think a Korean dog is interested in England's Lord Nelson?" Winchester asked with a humorous smile.

She grinned back at him, "Sure. Ernie's very eclectic in his tastes."

"I assume that explains why he was eating out of the garbage can earlier this morning," the man commented dryly and she laughed. The small dog, apparently not liking to be their topic of conversation, softly growled at Major Winchester.

"Ernie, hush!" The Texan admonished. "He can't help being a Yankee," she reached down, hiding her smile, to pet the dog.

"Why do you always allow that animal in your tent?" He asked.

With a grin, MacAllister retorted:

_'Though prejudice perhaps my mind befogs,_

_I think I know no things finer than dogs.' _(Hally Brent)

She added, "Didn't you ever have a dog?"

"Of course I did. I had several fine setters. They were marvelous gun dogs."

"But none of them ever came inside, did they?"

"They were not mistreated; they had plenty of food, water and space to run; their kennels were heated. My parents happen to believe that animals do not belong in a house."

"Then, I don't reckon I'll tell you about the time Houston and I kept a raccoon in his room for a week," she informed him. "Of course, when she found out, my Mama didn't think the coon belonged in the house, either. She threatened to throw the two of us out, as well," the Texan smiled at the memory.

"But, Ernie's a great comfort to me...just knowing he's in the same room with me makes me feel better. And I definitely need his company tonight; I know I'm going to have nightmares."

"As am I," he admitted. Winchester set up his record player and settled into his chair. As the soft harmonious notes from the violins began to sound in the tent, the woman picked up her sewing again.

The surgeon observed her bundle of socks and shirts, "Surely these do not all belong to you."

"Nope." With an impish grin, Sarabeth looked at him, "Remember the poker game last month? When Hawkeye put down three cards and had three aces dealt to him?"

"I remember that it nearly caused a riot with the other players."

"Yes, it was a good thing Father Mulcahy was the dealer, otherwise it would have gotten very ugly," she grinned, "Anyway, I had put my sewing skills in the pot. Today, before those kids were brought in, Hawkeye told me to pay up. He has a date tomorrow. And he wants to impress her with his socks."

"I see." Winchester shook his head, "That makes perfect sense...for this insane asylum."

Sarabeth questioned, "Do you know how my Mama darns socks?"

"I am almost afraid to ask," he answered. "How?"

"She doesn't mind repairing jeans or shirts. But she doesn't like to do socks. So she takes a sock that needs to be mended and she says: '_Darn, sock! Darn! Darn!_' And then she tosses it back into the basket for me to fix."

The man smiled, "Why should I expect your mother to be any different than the rest of your family?"

* * *

As the record changer dropped another album into position, MacAllister began, "Charles, the other day, you said you had something to discuss with me. What did you...?"

Hearing a snore, she looked over at her visitor. He was sound asleep in the chair. Shaking her head in amusement, the woman reached for another sock. When that record finished playing, shewoke him and sent him back to his own tent.


	15. 15

FIFTEEN

* * *

Jan. 18th: 1130 hours

"Lunch doesn't look very edible, today," Hawkeye Pierce noted, softly, as he moved, slowly, down the serving line. His head was aching from too much alcohol intake. Even breathing hurt.

"Does it ever?" B J Hunnicutt asked with a grin. He and Hawkeye had already forgiven each other for the angry words that had been spoken earlier.

"Once; some time last year, I think," Pierce replied. He inspected a slice of bread, "Look at this. There's a date stamped on it."

"What year?"

The man shrugged, "I don't know. I can't read hieroglyphics." He handed the bread back to the food server, "Here, Igor. Bury this back with the mummies."

* * *

Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt approached the table where Major Winchester, Lieutenant MacAllister and Father Mulcahy were already eating. "Mind if we sit down?" B J asked.

"Not at all, sir; there's always room for one more," the redheaded woman replied with a smile for the newcomers.

Beside her, Charles Winchester uttered a sigh of annoyance. While two of the Swamp tents mates were back on friendly terms; he and Hawkeye Pierce were still not speaking to each other.

"That was a familiar expression around my house, too," the amiable priest observed as he overlooked the officer's disgusted expression.

"Howdy, little sister," Hawkeye sat down on the other side of the woman. "Howdy, Father."

"Howdy, big brother," Sarabeth smiled at him.

"Hello, my son," Mulcahy answered.

Captain Pierce wasn't through with his greetings, however. He looked down the table at the doctor from Massachusetts and said, "Howdy...lump."

With his fork poised above his tray, Major Winchester responded to the doctor from Maine, "Hello...slug." He continued eating.

"Quick, Sarabeth!" B J urged, "Get out of the crossfire!"

The woman shook her head, "No need. Captain, the major and I have to return to duty in a few minutes; and despite appearances, this food is actually good today, so I do not want any dinner disturbances."

"And, on a more personal note, Benjamin Franklin Pierce, Charles Emerson Winchester," arching an eyebrow, Sarabeth MacAllister glared at each man as she called his name and added, "y'all had best call a halt to these hostilities. Or both of y'all _will_ be experiencing bruised shinbones. Y'all hear me?" She asked mildly.

"Heard and understood, my dear," the major answered.

"I hear you, little sister," Hawkeye replied, "You know, you've taken all the whimsy out of this war."

"Speaking of whimsy," B J Hunnicutt remarked as he looked at the corporal who had just taken over the table where most of the enlisted men were sitting. Several moved to other tables to make room for him. "I hear that he wrecked Rosie's last night."

"He said he caught the organizers of the dice game cheating," Father Mulcahy defended the man. "They do have questionable reputations. I have caught them switching dice before, you know."

"All I know is," Pierce remarked, "that I hope I never meet him in a dark alley."

"Or a well lit street," Hunnicutt added.

"The only way you could defend yourself from that man would be from inside a tank," Winchester contributed.

* * *

After their meal, both men returned to the Swamp. B J Hunnicutt was admiring the latest artistic creations from his daughter. Hawkeye Pierce was trying to sleep off some of his lingering hangover.

"Hawkeye," Nurse Thompson knocked at their door. "Sarabeth asked you to come to post-op. She said it isn't an emergency...but she'd really like for you to come right away."

* * *

Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt walked into the hospital building. Intrigued by the sounds of laughter coming from the post-op ward, they hurried inside. The Korean girl was giggling as she hit an inflated rubber glove. The glove, a substitute balloon, floated over to a red-haired nurse. She sent the make-shift toy in the direction of the child's brother in the next bed. He batted at the glove and it glided towards the men.

With a happy smile, Hawkeye juggled the toy from hand to hand before sending it back to the girl. She squealed in delight.

"Starting your own volleyball team, Sarabeth?" B J asked while he pulled up a stool to join in the game.

"Something like that, sir," she replied. "Sorry to disturb y'all. However, I figured y'all might like to see this."

"I'm glad you did," Pierce answered. He sent the glove flying towards the boy before smiling at the woman. "This is fun."

Soon, their laughter caught the interest of other people in the camp. The ward filled up with camp personnel and inflated gloves being knocked around to any willing participant.

* * *

Colonel Potter and Corporal Klinger stepped in to view the antics of the medical personnel. The commander smiled. He was glad whatever loco weed his people had gotten into last night had worn off. Returning to his office, his only comment was to suggest that the company clerk send in a request for more surgical gloves.

* * *

Standing at the edge of the ward, Major Houlihan was also watching the activities: such a display of undisciplined behavior; and such a waste of precious supplies. She knew she should stop this foolishness; instead, she simply shook her head and continued watching.

Seeing her, Hawkeye Pierce walked over to where she was standing. "Thank you, Margaret," he spoke quitely.

"For what?" She asked in confusion.

"For not saying anything, even though I know you want to." He gestured towards the happy faces of the Korean children, "And, for reminding this fainting robin what's most important."

* * *

Major Winchester, the physician on duty, was also observing their play. Feeling his eyes on her, Sarabeth turned her cheerful face towards him and winked mischievously. She walked over to where he was standing. "Thanks for letting me turn your hospital ward into a playground, sir," MacAllister said.

"Ah, yes; entertainment for children of all ages," the man observed.

"Well, you know," the Texan said with a grin, "laughter is the best medicine."


	16. 16

SIXTEEN

* * *

Jan. 20th: 0830 hours

Word spread quickly throughout the MASH unit that the materials for the new tent had arrived and construction of the nurses' living quarters would begin. With nothing better to do, the doctors moved chairs to the site, and waited, ring-side, for the action to begin. The other members of the outfit gathered in the area, as well.

Corporal Klinger, carrying a clipboard, and acting as shop foreman, was directing the assembly of the tent's wooden supports. The crowd cheered as each section of the framework was set in place.

"Klinger, what time does the Big Top go up?" Hawkeye Pierce asked excitedly. He was wearing his colorful Hawaiian shirt over his jacket in celebration. His Stetson was placed firmly on his head and binoculars were hanging around his neck.

"Just as soon as we can get it unloaded from the supply truck, sir," the clerk replied.

Spying the enlisted men who were carrying the canvas, B J Hunnicutt remarked, "Look! Here come the elephants!" In addition to his coat, and new leather gloves, he had donned his best fishing hat for the occasion. He waved the hat in a welcome to the approaching parade of personnel.

Chuckling, as the men tripped and nearly dropped their heavy burden, Charles Winchester retorted, "No, those are the clowns." Bundled up, he was also wearing his new gloves. For once, his hands were not aching in the cold air. The major clapped with the group as the tent material arrived.

"And here comes the strong man," Pierce added.

Refusing all offers of help, the newest arrival at the 4077th, Corporal Hitalski was carrying the center pole. As the others moved in to set up the pulleys and ropes, he motioned for everyone to step aside. Single handedly, he hoisted the tall post into position. Even though he was breathing heavily, he enjoyed the accolades of the people.

Leaving the rest of the men to complete their task, the corporal walked over to Lieutenant MacAllister. Proud of his accomplishment, Hitalski asked, "Did you see that?"

"I sure did," the woman replied with a friendly smile. "You did a good job."

"I know. Say, doll," the man began as he lookedover at the redhead nurse, "You want to come to this afternoon's dance with me?"

"Corporal," the Texan replied with formal politeness, "this is a medical unit but we still follow military protocol. The rank is lieutenant. The name is MacAllister. You will address me accordingly." She raised an eyebrow at the man as emphasis.

"Okay, lieutenant." He shrugged away the slight warning. "You can wear that Jap robe you looked so pretty in the other night. And we can show everyone here how to have a good time."

"Sorry. I won't be attending the party today. I'm expecting a call. And then, I have some reports that I have to finish."

"You're missing out on a great time," Hitalski said. With a final leer for the woman, the mechanic sauntered away. Plowing his way through the crowd, he sidled up to another nurse and started a conversation with her.

* * *

"It's not fair!" Lieutenant Parnelli thought to herself as she turned away from the festivities. She had been the very first person to request those quarters; but Baker and Tanakhamara were the ones moving their belongings into that tent.

Already mentally composing another letter to her brother, Monica Parnelli didn't notice the man standing beside the tent next to her. Without warning, a hand was clamped across her mouth and she was dragged into the shadows. Struggling until she recognized her captor, the young woman stared angrily at the soldier. "Colonel Flagg!" She protested. "You scared me half to death!"

* * *

"…Captain Pierce is almost as boring as the MacAllisters," Parnelli was reporting. "When he's not in the OR, all he ever does is to hunt for some nurse to hold."

"Has he displayed any strange behaviors recently?" The CID officer questioned. He was looking around furtively as he spoke.

"Hawkeye always acts strange," she retorted. The colonel nodded in agreement. He gestured for her to continue. "Well, he got very drunk the other day. And, yesterday, he was complaining about not receiving the latest issues of those nudist magazines he orders."

Flagg almost smiled, "I've been intercepting them. And, since he's so concerned about not getting them, I know there has to be some kind of coded message hidden inside."

"I don't think he's interested in any codes," the woman interrupted, "just the pictures of all those naked women."

"These Communist sympathizers can be very tricky. What about calls? Who has he talked to?"

"I know he called his dad the other day. But no one else," Parnelli shrugged as she tried to think of any other useful information. "Oh," she added as an afterthought. "This morning, he did ask Colonel Potter to send for the Korean translator."

"The translator?" Colonel Flagg was interested in this tidbit. "Why?"

"Right now, there are a couple of injured kids in the hospital. We're having trouble getting their family to understand what we're saying. So, Hawkeye wants the translator to tell them what needs to be done for their treatments and therapies."

"Are they North Koreans?"

"They came from up further north. I don't know if they're _North_ Koreans or not."

"What about MacAllister? What have you heard about him?" The man continued his questioning.

"His sister says he's recovering but he's still very weak. Three days ago, I accidentally read a letter from her other brother. In it, he said he and the colonel would be flying to Tokyo in a couple of days to rest. I guess they're already there."

* * *

After skulking away from themedical compound, and now sitting in his hidden vehicle, Colonel Flagg was thinking about everything he had learned. He'd investigate that family; but he was already positive they were North Koreans. Soon, he'd have all the evidence he needed to shut Pierce's smart mouth for good. And, with the G-2 officer out of action; this was perfect. The man permitted himself a satisfied smile. 


	17. 17

SEVENTEEN

* * *

Later that night, flying low to avoid radar detection, a helicopter skimmed the tree tops as it moved across the countryside. The pilot, relying on both skill and the moonlight, guided his aircraft towards the landing site. The soldiers riding with him were silent. There was no need for talk. They already knew their assignments and the dangers they would be facing.

"ETA five minutes," the pilot advised.

"Right," the commanding officer replied. Ignoring the ache in his shoulder, he observed his men. Like him, they were dressed in black clothing, with hands and faces darkened by camouflage paint and their hair concealed by tight fitting watch caps. All pieces of identification had been left behind. Their rifles and gear were close at hand. They were ready for this mission.

Satisfied with what he saw in their expressions, the officer gave his final instructions to the aviator, "Monitor the channel. We'll holler if we need to pull out early. Otherwise, keep the scheduled rendezvous."

"I reckon I can handle that," the man answered.

The other man grinned, "I reckon you can." Turning his attention to his men, he said, with his calm drawl, "Let's go cause some nightmares."

"We're ready, sir," one of the soldiers replied. The others quietly agreed.

The helicopter set down in a clearing. As the bay door slid open and the men jumped out, the pilot whispered, "Spook him good, big brother."

Pausing to look back, the officer had a fierce grin, "I intend to, little brother." And then, he followed his men into the darkness.

* * *

Early the next morning, a military jeep was parked outside the headquarters for the South Korean Army. The two men leaning against it were waiting for one particular man to arrive. Sergeant Henderson, a member of the military police, was thinking how many turns his life had taken recently.

He probably would have spent the entire war stationed at Fort Dix; had it not been for that rather unfortunate, but completely innocent, incident with Lieutenant Colonel Finnelly's daughter. A week later, he found himself on a boat bound for Korea. Once here, he had been assigned as the driver for the CID officer, Colonel Flagg.

Most of his assignments with the colonel had been wild goose chases; except for that raid on that Chinese camp. What they had done to those women made his blood boil. He agreed with Flagg that General Zheng He needed to be stopped---no matter how.

But now, the colonel seemed to have set aside that resolve while he focused on extracting revenge on some doctor. Henderson signed and tried to remain patient.

When an older man wearing the uniform of the South Korean Army approached, Colonel Flagg referred to some notes and then spoke to him, "Pak? I'm Flagg. Come with me."

The man looked at the government official with hesitation, "Sir, I still think I should talk with the family first."

Shaking his head, Flagg stated, "We're going to the village where they claim to be from. And we're going to find out who they really are."

The translator tried again to dissuade him, "P'aju has been overrun by both sides several times. If there were any written census records, they have been destroyed or stolen by now."

"I'll find what I need. Let's go," the man ordered as he climbed into his jeep.

* * *

Colonel Crockett MacAllister stepped into his office. "Howdy, Sterling," he spoke to his second in command. "Keeping early hours, this morning?"

"Just trying to catch up on the paperwork, sir," the man grinned. "How was your three days R&R in Tokyo? Did you have fun?"

"About as much fun as I always have in Tokyo," the colonel answered with a lopsided grin of his own. "Did any thing of interest happen while I was gone?"

Captain Sterling handed the other officer some papers, "Here are the reports that arrived while you were on leave. You might want to read this one, first." He indicated the top one. "It seems, for the past three nights, there's been a good deal of excitement in some of the enemy camps. Sources indicate there have been explosions and gunfire in several areas. Also, there are numerous accounts of '_straw-haired_' and '_fire-haired demons_' who promised lingering, painful deaths for anyone who did not surrender. They seemed to have made quite an impression on the Chinese soldiers."

"Fancy that," MacAllister smiled. "And, to think, I was sitting in a bath house and drinking sake the whole time. I reckon I missed all the excitement."

"Yes," Sterling could not completely keep his face expressionless. "Pity you were away on leave."

"Pity," the Texan agreed. He scanned the reports, "Flagg's been to P'aju? We'll have to find out what caught his interest up there. Other than that, there's nothing here that demands my immediate attention. I'm going to take a shower and get some sleep. R&R in Tokyo always tires me out."

* * *

Colonel Flagg stepped out of his office. Even though it was still early in the morning, his driver was waiting for him. Lieutenant Pak would be arriving at the 4077th this morning. He would give him enough time to take care of whatever medical translations were needed. And then he would move in for the 'kill'. He had been waiting for this a long time. This was going to be fun. 


	18. 18

EIGHTEEN

* * *

Jan. 24th: 0600

Colonel Potter was preparing for another trip to Seoul. He wondered what the people at Regimental Headquarters had to say this time. Probably complaining about the number of gloves they had been requesting recently, or something equally trivial. He hoped he would be back before nightfall.

It was Charles Winchester's turn to be 'Officer of the Day'. The very first time the major had been in charge, he had run the business affairs of the unit efficiently enough. He had also run poor Klinger ragged trying to fill all of his extra orders: silken bed sheets, daily newspaper delivery and specialty foods. Potter smiled to himself. He doubted that Winchester would ever repeat that offense again; he had hated his subsequent assignment as substitute company clerk for a day.

* * *

"Captain Pierce, the translator is here," Corporal Klinger reported. He was standing just inside the door to the men's shower.

"It's about time," the doctor grumbled. "What took him so long?" He quickly toweled himself dry and reached for his bathrobe.

"He said he was…delayed, sir. He didn't give any other explanation."

"He probably stopped somewhere for some Chinese take-out." Pierce wrapped the deep purple clothing around himself as he issued his instructions, "Get that man into the hospital and start him talking. Have B J and Sarabeth report to post-op. And bring those short crutches you found. I'll be there as soon as I get dressed."

* * *

The outside doors to the post-op building opened. Closing the doors behind him, escaping the cold, the Chief Surgeon walked inside. He saw an older man talking to the Korean adults. They were looking at him fearfully. Frowning, the doctor approached, "I'm Hawkeye Pierce. Is there some problem here?" He asked.

"No problem, sir," the Korean officer reported. "They are concerned about the children."

"Let them know that everything's going to be all right." He smiled at the adults who timidly smiled back at the doctor. "Little Hsu, here, has healed enough to start learning how to walk on crutches. I'd like for you," he looked at the translator, "to tell her what she needs to do. And, Sarabeth, since you're our resident expert on crutch maneuvering, I want you to show her what to do."

"I reckon you're _eggs_-aggerating my abilities, sir," the redheaded nurse grinned at the man. "However, I _shell_ make the _egg_-tempt," she quipped.

"_Eggs_-cellent," Pierce responded.

"You're _eggs_-hibiting good sense, Hawkeye," B J Hunnicutt remarked with a grin of his own. "She's no _chicken_ when it comes to crossing the compound on crutches."

Major Winchester, who had decided to observe this training session, moaned. Major Houlihan simply rolled her eyes and sighed.

"What's the matter, Charles?" B J questioned. "Don't you get the _yolk_?"

"I got it, Hunnicutt. I simply do not want it. All of you are quite demented, you know." The man proclaimed with a shake of his head.

"Is he calling us _cracked_?" Hawkeye asked in fake dismay.

"Not _cracked,_ big brother," Sarabeth laughed, "just slightly _scrambled_. And since I reckon we have _eggs_-hausted that topic, anyway," reaching for her own crutches, the woman turned to the young girl sitting on the edge of her bed, "Hsu, you're going to learn how to walk on stilts today," the nurse informed the girl. "It really isn't all that hard."

* * *

Working with the translator to explain every motion required for moving on crutches, a red-haired woman and a black-haired girl were soon hobbling around the hospital ward. Everyone in the room was smiling happily at their accomplishments when the doors to the post-op ward were opened and three men stepped inside.

Followed by two MPs carrying rifles, Colonel Flagg looked at the occupants of the room. "Pierce, you're under arrest," he announced in satisfaction.


	19. 19

NINETEEN

* * *

The Chief Surgeon laughed at the colonel's announcement, "All right, Flagg, now you've done it. I'm going to have to take away your junior spy certifi….." 

The visiting colonel motioned to the men accompanying him. They swiftly approached the doctor, grabbed his hands and had him bound in manacles before he even finished his sentence. Their actions momentarily stunned the medical personnel. Then, Captain Hunnicutt and Major Houlihan hurriedly moved to Hawkeye Pierce's side in angry protest.

"Arrested? That's ridiculous!" B J Hunnicutt stated angrily.

"What are the charges?" Margaret Houlihan demanded.

As the two were loudly arguing with the arresting officer, Lieutenant MacAllister dropped her crutches on an empty cot and picked up the young girl and carried her away from the commotion. Lieutenant Campbell, the ward nurse on duty, did the same with the child's brother.

The children were placed in beds in the far corner of the hospital ward. Corporal Hounder, the assigned medic for the shift, ushered the other civilians over there, as well. Together, the three members of the MASH unit, stood protectively, in front of their patients.

Major Winchester, watching the confrontation, was rapidly reviewing his options…or lack of them. And just how was he supposed to regain control over this situation? He saw MacAllister whisper something to Campbell who slipped out the side door. Sending for reinforcements, he hoped. Fervently, he wished that Colonel Potter would suddenly appear.

"It took a while; but I've got you, right where I want you, Pierce," Colonel Flagg spoke calmly. He was enjoying this moment. He pointed to the elderly grandfather, "In P'aju, we found people who remembered him and they know where his loyalties lie. They also know which army the son-in-law belongs to; the _North_ Korean one. That's make this family Communists; and, since you treated those children, you've been providing assistance to the enemy."

Pierce protested, "Look Flagg, when someone's bleeding, I don't ask to see their passport or pedigree! I just patch them up and try to keep them alive. I don't care what side they're on. I even fixed your broken arm, remember?"

"The U. S. government cares, Pierce. These five are going to an internment camp. As for you…a firing squad at dawn sounds good to me, _comrade,_" Colonel Flagg smiled at the medical officer. He spoke to his driver, "Henderson, start the jeep. I'll take Pierce now and come back for them." He looked towards the Koreans who were huddled together.

Flagg was surprised to discover that the number of people standing between them and his men had quietly increased. It appeared that most of the nursing staff had arrived through the side door and had also taken their positions in front of the family. That could pose a problem, he admitted to himself. With a shrug, Colonel Flagg returned his attention to the senior officers who were confronting him.

"You can't have him!" The head nurse was telling the man defiantly.

"Yeah! He's not going with you!" B J Hunnicutt added. The two of them were still standing beside Hawkeye Pierce; fiercely defending him.

"Charles," Pierce called to the acting commander, "Do something! He's planning to give me a permanent life sentence of death!"

Inwardly sighing, Major Winchester, full of determination, stepped forward, "Colonel Flagg, as much as I would enjoy seeing Pierce as a member of a chain gang, I can not allow you to take him, or anyone else, away from this compound."

Frowning at the man, the senior officer said, "Winchester, stay out of this. I still remember where you live."

"Which, at the moment, unfortunately, is here," the man responded. "According to Army regulations, the commander of the outfit is the only one who can sanction the removal of personnel. You can not take Pierce away right now; you will have to wait until Colonel Potter returns."

"The only rules I have to follow are mine," Flagg stated. "Henderson, get that jeep ready!"

The MP turned to leave the hospital ward. He was met at the door by the company clerk. "Sorry, Sergeant, this way is closed for animal waste removal," Klinger reported. "You'll have to use the other exit." The Lebanese corporal had the rest of the camp medics and enlisted men blocking the doorway behind him.

"Major," Corporal Klinger walked over to the doctor. He didn't appear to notice the armed military personnel in the hospital ward, or that Captain Pierce was wearing chains. Looking over his clipboard of notes, he said, "Colonel Potter called. He won't back until tomorrow. He gave you some written instructions."

Handing the note to the man, the clerk continued, "The scheduled maintenance on all camp vehicles is in progress. And, I requested a new movie, it's called, _The Camel Driver's Call_." Klinger looked pointedly at the major, hoping he would understand his attempt at a coded message.

To his relief, Winchester, after reading the note and placing it in his shirt pocket, nodded in understanding.

"Oh, Colonel Flagg, sorry about your jeep, sir," the clerk added.

"My jeep? What's wrong with my jeep?" The senior officer demanded.

"You didn't feel that earthquake just now, sir?" The clerk asked innocently.

Keeping his smile to himself, Sergeant Henderson pushed his way through the crowd and looked outside. "Sir, you better take a look at this," he remarked as he returned.

* * *

Outside, Colonel Flagg stared at the overturned vehicle that was to be his ride out of camp. When the jeep was finally set upright, it was discovered that all of the small, removable, essential pieces had mysteriously disappeared. 

And, unfortunately, due to the mechanical upkeep schedule, every other vehicle in the entire camp was no longer functional. And, coincidently, the phone lines were now dead, as well.

Flagg was fuming over the turn of events but his driver was amused. He liked the feisty defiance of this outfit.


	20. 20

TWENTY

* * *

Jan. 24th: 1700 hours

_Dear Dad,_

_Remember how you always said that my flippant attitude and disregard for the rules would get me in trouble some day? Well, I think that someday may be here. As you have noticed, this is not my handwriting. Father Mulcahy is writing this for me. We're in the Swamp and my hands are tied…literally._

_I'm under arrest for being a Communist sympathizer and for aiding the enemy…who, in this case, happens to be a six year old girl who lost her leg to a land mine. Colonel Flagg, a hero in his own mind, put handcuffs on me this morning. He was planning to take me away…no doubt to some place where no one would ever hear from me again. However, thanks to my very vocal friends, and to an equally crafty company clerk, he couldn't transport me out here._

_I thought he was going to stroke out when he discovered that every vehicle in this camp, including his own, had been disabled. I don't know how Klinger managed it in such a short time but I'm glad he did._

_When our good padre came back from the orphanage, Flagg commandeered his jeep. He tried, again, to take me with him; and again, the people here prevented him from getting me anywhere near_ _that vehicle; despite his threats and blusterings. He then tried to force the Korean family to go with him but didn't succeed there, either._

_So, for now, he left me, and one of his armed hoodlums, here at the 4077th. He also left these manacles on me. I'm shackled to my bed. And I can't leave the tent. I can't even turn over on my cot. I don't like this! I don't like this one bit!

* * *

_

Major Winchester, sitting at the colonel's desk, poured a small amount of brandy from his decanter. Colonel Potter's note had said to stall for time until he arrived. So far, they had managed to stave off Flagg's kidnapping attempts. But, for how long?

He had posted a guard at the Swamp to watch over Flagg's guard. He had one near the VIP tent to keep the Korean adults from being taken; and had posted another sentry inside the hospital ward to keep him from taking the children. But he knew that the CID officer was a very determined man. Although, he had to admit, with a slight smile, that Margaret and her nurses created a very effective defense barrier.

However, he hadn't liked the way Flagg had stared, in speculation, at Sarabeth as she stood, defiantly, blocking his path. With the CID officer in the camp, Klinger had remembered to notify Colonel MacAllister. His message had stated: _"Concern noted. Yellow Rose must NOT go with Pennant. Holler if help is needed." _So, did that mean he should expect Flagg to attempt to abduct her? Or was Crockett just being cautious when it came to his sister's safety? Winchester hadn't liked Flagg's veiled threats against his sister, either. He didn't like any of this..

* * *

Crockett MacAllister thought about the call he had received from Corporal Klinger. The G-2 officer wasn't concerned about Pierce; Flagg would never be able to provide enough hard evidence to convict the doctor. But, given the situation, he doubted that his sister had stayed clear of the man, as her older brother had instructed. Of course, he admitted, with a grin, Flagg would be the one who needed rescuing, if he managed to make her mad enough.

He reread the report on the officer's trip to P'aju. It appeared to have been simply an inquiry into the background of that Korean family. Like so many other refugees, they had moved away from the fighting, coming further south, trying to find a safe place to live. Not that there was any safe place anywhere, right now.

What bothered him, however, was that he couldn't find the names of the people involved. Who were they? He would have to talk to the investigator he had sent up there. He didn't like having incomplete information.

He also didn't like the fact that their trail had led Flagg back to the 4077th. He didn't like that, at all.


	21. 21

TWENTY ONE

Jan. 25th: 0715 hours

Sitting at a table in the mess tent, Lieutenant MacAllister was waiting for her fourth, and final, student to arrive. The three other men who were eligible for the Sergeant's exam were waiting with her. "We'll give him another couple of minutes; and then we'll start," the Texan remarked, trying to keep her impatience at bay.

"I still don't see how he qualifies for this test," Igor Stimenski, the assistant cook, spoke to the group.

The company clerk shrugged, "Colonel Potter reviewed his file very carefully. He even placed a call to his former commander, who had nothing to but good things to say about him."

"He was probably afraid Hitalksi would come back and pound him; if he didn't," Sam Hounder, the other medic present, contributed.

The men laughed until they saw MacAllister's frown and her eyebrow raised in warning.

"Sorry," they apologized, not entirely contrite. The new mechanic assistant was not well liked by most of the men in camp.

The woman's expression grew even harsher as the mess tent door opened and Hawkeye Pierce, and his guard, stepped inside. Still wearing chains on his hands and ankles, Pierce's head was down and his back was bent, as he shuffled towards the serving line. He looked haggard and distraught. Everyone stared at him in silence. This was not the saucy surgeon and scoundrel they all knew and tolerated.

Captain Hunnicutt followed close behind him. He was both agitated and angry. He stopped by their table to ask, "Klinger, when is the colonel coming back?"

"He said he should be here around 10 am, sir."

Bending low towards the table's occupants, the doctor from California whispered, "We have to do something. This is killing Hawkeye! And it's killing me to see him like this! If Potter's not here by 10:01, I'm staging a prison break."

"Count me in, sir," Sarabeth spoke softly and the men with her nodded in agreement.

"Good morning, doll," a voice was heard behind him. The conspirators moved apart as the other member of the study group appeared. He straddled the bench beside the red headed nurse and smiled at her while Captain Hunnicutt rejoined his tent mate in the chow line. "Hey, did you see that upside-down jeep? That officer sure was upset, wasn't he!"

"Corporal, as I have said before; the rank is Lieutenant and the name is MacAllister." The woman's usual friendly demeanor was replaced by a more formal one. "And," she glanced at the Military Police officer accompanying Captain Pierce, "I don't reckon you should be boasting about that particular accomplishment, right now."

"You don't think I'm scared of him, do you?" Elmo Hitalski dismissed the armed guard with a shrug. He curled up his arm to display the muscles that bulged beneath his Army fatigues.

"I think you need to arrive on time," MacAllister replied, with a hint of annoyance in her voice. She handed each man some stapled sheets of paper. "Here's your study guides. Now, according to the people I've talked to, there are usually some fraction questions and some simple algebra problems on the mathematics portion of the exam. We'll look over a few of them now. After that, we'll use this history book of the colonel's to review…."

"Look, dol…Lieutenant. Why don't you just tell us the answers that will be on the test?" Corporal Hitalski commented in a presumptive manner. "That will save us all some time. And you and I can spend that time getting to know each other better."

"And what makes you think that I know the answers, Corporal?" She asked in with a deceptively mild drawl. Only the lifting of an eyebrow and the tightening of her jaw indicated her growing irritation.

"Since you're chums with the doctors, I think you must know what will be on the test," Hitalski answered. He leered at her, insolently, "Or maybe you don't talk about sergeant's exams while you're being..._chummy._"

"You watch your mouth!" Max Klinger spoke angrily.

With obvious menace, the heavily muscled man smiled at the clerk, "You wanna make me?" He challenged.

"_Gentlemen_!" Lieutenant MacAllister slapped the table, angrily, to get their attention, "We are studying the American Revolution; not reenacting it! Corporal Hitalski, since the other men here are interested in reviewing the material, and since you seem to lack the _concentration_ required to study with us, you are dismissed."

Half-raising out of his seat, the man loomed over the woman, "But I like it fine, right here, _Lieutenant_."

Refusing to be bullied, MacAllister ignored his threatening posture and returned his smirk with an adamant expression, "Corporal. You. Are. Dismissed." She spoke very distinctly and with a great deal of steel authority in her voice. "Do you understand me, mister?"

"I sure do,_ Lieutenant,_" Hitalski sneered. The man sauntered out of the mess tent.

A collective sigh of relief was heard from the other men in the area.

Frowning, the woman pushed away from the table, "If y'all will excuse me, I think I'll get some more coffee."

"Klinger, are you crazy!" Igor whispered as she walked away. "He'll fold you into a pretzel!"

"I know," the company clerk replied. His face was pale. "But I couldn't let him say things like that about the lieutenant."

"You've got a death wish, Max." Hounder commented.

When Sarabeth MacAllister returned to the table, her amiable smile was back in place, "Okay. Let's start with fractions…."

"Klinger, I want to thank you for standing up for me in the mess tent; even if it did put you on the bottom of Hitalski's ten-most-favorite-people list," MacAllister commented as she and the clerk walked back towards his office.

"Listen, you think I'm worried about him?" Klinger joked. "Back in Toledo, the five year olds are tougher than Hitalski! He doesn't bother me!"

"He better not!" Sarabeth stated. "Because I have a fondness for camel drivers. Besides…."

The nurse stopped talking when she saw Corporal Hitalski approaching but she didn't stop walking. The clerk followed close beside her.

Hitalski fell into step with them, "Lieutenant, I didn't mean anything by what I said back there in the mess tent. I'm just anxious about my promotion," he smiled at the woman. "No hard feelings?"

"None, Corporal," she answered. Her voice and her expression were neutral.

"Good. See you later, doll; I mean, Lieutenant. Klinger, I'll be seeing _you_ later, too." He added ominously as he moved away.

The company clerk muttered something under his breath.

"Was that a Lebanese curse?" MacAllister asked.

"Yes, ma'am. And I apologize for it. What I said shouldn't have been heard by a lady...even if you don't understand Arabic."

"That's all right, Klinger," the Texan stated. "Cuss him out again…for me…will you? And, if anyone's looking for me, I'll be out chunking rocks at defenseless trees."


	22. 22

TWENTY TWO

When Colonel Potter's jeep arrived at the 4077th, he was greeted by an unhappy welcoming committee. Having already talked to the company clerk earlier this morning, the medical commander knew what was waiting for him. He just hoped Klinger would have that bottle of aspirins handy.

Major Winchester hurried out of the commander's office, ready to return the mantle of responsibility to the older man. Captain Hunnicutt, Major Houlihan and Father Mulcahy hurried over to complain about the treatment of the Chief Surgeon. The South Korean translator had returned and was rapidly approaching. And Corporal Klinger had a clipboard full of reports for him to review.

All of them began speaking at once; each clamoring to be heard.

"One at a time!" Potter directed. "Winchester, come into my office." When the others started to protest, he raised up his hand for silence, "I'll speak to the rest of you in a few minutes. But for now.…"

He halted as a transport truck, pulling into the compound, stopped beside the group. Several military policemen climbed out from the back of the truck. Colonel Flagg stepped down the passenger side with his usual swagger.

"Looks like the buzzard has returned," Margaret Houlihan noted under her breath.

The sandy-haired man beside her, added, "He must have been circling the camp just waiting for the colonel to arrive."

"Potter," the CID colonel spoke with a triumphant tone. "I've come to pick up my prisoners; all six of them."

Sherman Potter gestured toward the office, "Come inside, Flagg; and we'll discuss this." He doubted that one bottle of aspirins was going to be able handle this headache.

Colonel Potter's office was crowded. The rest of the group had followed Colonel Flagg inside. Deciding he couldn't have kept them outside, anyway; Potter let them remain, despite the other man's protests. After listening to the visiting officer's oration, he had asked Lieutenant Pak for his evaluation.

The interpreter stated, "They are not dangerous people. The husband was a language teacher. He was dragged out of their house almost two years ago by a North Korean conscription squad. His wife, and family, hasn't seen him since."

"That sounds to me like he's an unwilling participant in the North Korean Army, Flagg," the commander observed. "Not a die-hard supporter of the Communist party."

"He's still a Communist! And his family is, too. Now," the man raised his voice, angrily, "sign Pierce, and these so-called refugees, over to me. I'm tired of waiting. I've got a court martial and a firing squad to arrange."

"They are not going with you," Potter stated resolutely.

"I have had enough of this!" Flagg unsnapped his holster and placed his hand on his pistol as a threat. He looked at the older man in contempt, "I'm taking them with me. And don't try to stop me."

Although he was a much shorter man, Colonel Potter suddenly seemed taller. "Buffalo bagels!" He bugled. "Flagg, I've been giving orders before you were even out of diapers! Don't think you can come in here and bully me! I don't care how many 'Commies' you claim are here; I'm not turning over anyone to you."

Still talking, with all his years of experience, and with all of his authority backing him, he continued, "The only one I'll sign anyone over to, is the Adjutant General. And not until I'm satisfied there's enough proof to even bring up charges. Now get out of my office; and get out of my camp!"

Hearing the ring of the phone in the outer office, hating to leave this scene, the company clerk eased his way through the people. He returned, quickly pushing his way through them. "Colonel Potter, we've got wounded coming in! Ambulances, and choppers, on their way!"

"Dear Lord," Father Mulcahy spoke in prayer, "Watch over them. And us," he added. He and the rest of the medical personnel hastily moved out of the area to begin their preparations for the arriving transports.

Left alone together, the two senior officers stared at each other. "Look, Flagg," Potter began, "I understand how important it is to stop the 'Communist threat' and to help save American lives. But a one-legged girl and her elderly grandparents pose no threats to anyone. And, right now, I need Hawkeye Pierce in that operating room. He may be a loose cannon and a free spirit, but he is a damn good surgeon! Remove his handcuffs and let him do what he does best…saving lives…American and otherwise."

"I'm not releasing my prisoner."

"Put him under house arrest. Stay here and guard him, yourself, if you want. Just keep those chains off him. And let him do his job."

His skillful hands working to remove shrapnel from a young soldier's chest, Hawkeye Pierce spoke to the doctor at the next table. "I can't look up. Is he still hovering out there?"

"Like the carrion he is," B J Hunnicutt responded, "he's still carrying on."

"He's spooky," Lieutenant Hernandez observed as she reached up to wipe the sweat from the surgeon's brow.

"Well, after all, he is a _spook_," Hawkeye responded.

Hearing some of the playfulness return to his voice, his red-haired surgical nurse asked, "Doctor, did you hear about the chimney sweep who came down with the_ flue_? Or how about the tennis players who called their romance a_ courtship_."

"I heard about the hot dog vender who handled his job with_ relish_."B J contributed.

Not even glancing up from his surgical field, Charles Winchester groaned, "Not again."

Feeling better, Pierce continued the exchange, "What about the podiatrists who were _arch_ enemies?"

"Or the barber who was a _cut_ above," Colonel Potter added from his table. He was pleased that his people were no longer feeling so dispirited.

Captain Hunnicutt added, "And what about the hospital for comedians that was full of _sick_ jokes…."

Standing outside the operating room, Colonel Flagg shook his head. It sounded like the whole outfit would qualify for a section eight. He settled back to wait. He had agreed to keep Pierce under house arrest but that didn't mean he was finished with him.


	23. 23

TWENTY THREE

Jan. 25th: 1230 hours

With the influx of wounded soldiers coming in, Colonel Potter had ordered the company clerk to move the Korean children out of the hospital ward and into the VIP tent with their mother and grandparents. After Klinger had taken care of the more serious cases requiring x-rays, he and Father Mulcahy had helped the children settle down with the adults.

Leaving behind the priest for comfort, a couple of inflated gloves for entertainment and a box of baklava for eating, Corporal Klinger headed back toward the pre-op area. By now, Kellye probably had more people who needed his services. If not, he could get started on the end-of-month reports.

A sudden hard shove sent him staggering.

Wondering what had happened, the man struggled to his feet. Still slightly dazed, he heard a voice behind him say, "Klinger, you sure are clumsy. What would happen if you fell like that near the mine fields? You need to be more careful."

Looking up angrily, the company clerk saw Corporal Hitalski reaching for a box of medical materials from the supply truck that had arrived soon after the ambulances. Without a backward glance, the man hefted the heavy container and continued on his way.

"Soldier, are you all right?" The Military Police officer who was standing guard over the Korean family called out to him. He couldn't leave his post; however, as soon as his relief arrived, he'd let the CO of this outfit know what he had witnessed.

"I'm fine," Max Klinger responded. He wasn't fine. His knee was hurting and his palm was stinging where he had scraped it on a rock. He'd get Kellye to look at it before he continued with his duties. Staring at the large man's back, the company clerk was glad no one could hear what he was thinking, right now.

Since Captain Hunnicutt was the first to complete his surgical schedule, he was given the assignment of taking care of the prisoners who were still waiting.

Earlier that morning, two soldiers in the Chinese Army had walked up to a battalion aide station and had surrendered to the astonished medics there. Since both had minor injuries, they had been brought to the MASH unit for treatment before being moved to the nearest prison camp.

The doctor quickly discovered the same problem that the prep personnel had already experienced.

The two enemy soldiers were sitting together in the corner of the pre-op area. A guard was alertly standing next to them. Understandably nervous about their fate, the men warily watched anyone who approached them.

Seeing Nurse Kellye's more Oriental appearing features, they visibly relaxed. But whenever the blonde nurse, Baker, walked by, the soldiers grew more apprehensive. They acted the same way with Corporal Hounder, the fair-haired corpsman. They were obviously afraid of the man from California, as well.

Confused by their reactions, B J Hunnicutt asked the translator to talk to them. After a lengthy conversation, with many gestures and frightened looks directed towards the medical personnel, Lieutenant Pak reported, "They say 'demons' appeared in their camp a few days ago and promised to tear the livers out of all those who didn't surrender. And they're saying that most of them had straw colored hair---just like you, this nurse and the corpsman. So, now they're afraid you're here to keep your promise."

"Tell them they are safe; that no one will hurt them now," Captain Hunnicutt spoke. He gave the men his most beguiling smile. They did not seem to be convinced.

Colonel Flagg had overheard this explanation. "Straw-haired demons?" He asked with interest. "How did they arrive; what did they say?" The CID officer pulled up a chair and began interrogating the prisoners.

Having a few minutes before they needed to report for their shift, Lieutenants Parnelli and Thompson decided to have a cup of coffee. Ernie, the mascot of the camp, ever hopeful for a handout, followed them. Their entranceway to the mess tent was blocked by Corporal Hitalski.

"Come on, Corporal," Jeanette Thompson complained, "Let us in. It's cold out here!"

The man moved in front of the women they tried to step around him. "Monica, you said you'd go the Officer's Club with me this afternoon," he stated.

The nurse shrugged, "That was before we had the wounded come in. I have post-op duty now; maybe later."

"No, doll, you're coming now," Hitalski moved in closer towards the women. Not liking the menacing tone of his voice, the small dog growled at the man. "Get away from me!" The corporal said as he took a swipe at the animal with his foot. Ernie yelped and jumped away.

"You leave him alone!" Thompson shouted. Her words were echoed by Major Houlihan's protest as she hurried towards the group.

"How dare you hurt that poor, defenseless animal!" The charge nurse was furious. Pushing her way to stand in front of the mechanic, she began to berate the man.

As Hitalski tried to explain that he hadn't actually kicked the dog, Jeanette and Monica decided they didn't need anything to drink. They had experienced the major's ire many times before; they wanted to leave the area before Major Houlihan realized they were late to their shift. Ernie, however, stayed to watch. Apparently satisfied that the situation was under control, he left a generous stain on the man's pant leg before jauntily trotting off.


	24. 24

TWENTY FOUR

Jan. 25th: 2030 hours

_Dear Mildred,_

_When it rains, it pours around here. We started out the day with a confrontation between Colonel Flagg and my medical staff. _

_The Korean family that we have been sheltering here seems to be causing more and more trouble. Not the people themselves, of course. The children are as cute as buttons. Their mother and grandmother, when not sitting at their bedside in the hospital, have taken over the laundry services for our doctors. And the grandfather has spent a lot of time with Sophie. Her coat and mane, her tack and saddle, are glossy and shining with all of the care he has given her. _

_Unfortunately, their very presence is what is causing this trouble. Flagg does have some evidence to support that they have connections with the North Korean Army; but he hasn't convinced me that they are as dangerous as he claims. He has tried to take them into his custody on several occasions. We have managed to thwart him…so far._

_Hawkeye Pierce insists that we have to do something to protect these people. I have already contacted the Red Cross and some Catholic agencies here. No one seems to have any solutions. We can't keep them here indefinitely. The boy needs a couple of more days of rest before he is able to travel. After that…I don't know what will happen._

_Pierce is another part of the problem. By treating this family, he has given Colonel Flagg an excuse to arrest him for assisting the enemy. Although I fail to see how saving the lives of two children constitutes a 'Communist threat', Flagg is very adamant about bringing our Chief Surgeon to trial. He even had the audacity to put manacles and leg irons on him._

_I was in Seoul at the time but I have heard how that affected Pierce. He does have the tendency to go off on tangents, sometimes; but he's a damn fine surgeon! And I hate to __think what imprisonment would do to him._

_On top of that, we had a seven hour OR session; not the longest one we've ever experienced here, but tiring all the same_.

_Afterwards, in the changing room, I assigned Winchester to head the promotion board. He was whining about that until I reminded him that there were worse assignments…like latrine health inspector. He was happy to accept the task after that. Klinger's about the only one who I think is really qualified to take the Sergeant's Exam; but we'll see._

_The next thing I had to deal with was one of Military Police guards asked to speak to me. He said Hitalski had pushed Klinger. When I talked to Klinger about it, he said nothing had happened. I told him if something was going on, I needed to know about it. But he said he could handle it._

_After that, Margaret Houlihan came storming into my office. She was also complaining about Hitalski; first that he was harassing her nurses, and second, that he had kicked poor little Ernie. I talked to the nurses involved in the latest incident; neither seemed to be willing to implicate him. I also examined the dog but he really didn't seem to be hurt._

_When I called Corporal Hitalski into my office, he denied any wrong doing. He said Klinger tripped over his own feet. Which I don't believe for a minute; Klinger is sometimes unorganized and has an overactive imagination; but I have never known him to be clumsy. He also stated emphatically that he was merely talking to the nurses and not hindering them in any way. And, when questioned about Ernie, he said he was kicking at the dog to make him go away; not actually trying to hurt him._

_Until Klinger, the nurses, or anyone else in camp actually files a complaint against him, there's not much I can do about Hitalski. He is clever enough to behave just within boundaries and he always has a plausible excuse ready. But I'm keeping an eye on him. And, the first thing that I can actually prove; he's getting a swift boot to the rear and a transfer out of here._

_I forgot to tell you about the Chinese prisoners. That was part of the excitement today, as well. They turned themselves in to the personnel at a battalion aide station; which is highly unusual, in itself. And, they came in a tale of being frightened into surrendering by spirits who threatened them with a 1,000 years of pain, if they continued to fight. And they seemed to be very frightened of all the blondes in our outfit—because they had the same color hair as the demons who visited their camp._

_Colonel Flagg was interested in their information. He left soon after talking to them; looking very excited about something. I have a strong suspicion as to who those 'demons' might be. And, I hope Flagg doesn't decide to follow that trail. _

_As you know, I always try to talk to the young men who are brought to our hospital unit. I like to get to know them as people, not simply as the chest wound or leg wound that I see during surgery. This time, the conversations were not as friendly as in the past. Most of these men were anxious to get back to their units—anxious to get back to the fighting. _

_And I understand why. The official report concerning the missing British nurses has been released and has spread quickly along the front lines. There has been a great deal of hostility brewing in the Allied ranks...particularly within the English, Australian and American outfits. They all realize that those two nurses could easily have been their sisters...their sweethearts...their wives._

_I can't blame them for being angry. Every time I think about what happened, I get furious...all over again, myself. I'm not going to give you the details of what happened to those poor women, dear girl. Suffice it to know that it was vile and despicable._

_The only possible good thing that may come out of this...is that public outcry and indignation against their blatant defiance of the Geneva Convention and their inhumane treatment of their captives may have made the Chinese lose ground on the diplomatic field. And, if you listen to some of the soldiers here, they intend for the Chinese and North Koreans to lose on the battle field, as well. _

_I will be so glad when this war is finally over. This has been one of those days where I've looked at the calendar and actually counted how many days are left before I can retire. _

_I'm sorry if this letter is so discouraging. I'll try to write a more cheerful one tomorrow._

_I love you, Mildred. And I miss you._

_Sherm_


	25. 25

_Apologies for the delay: real life has a habit of jumping up & biting you when you're not expecting it._

TWENTY FIVE

* * *

Jan. 28th: 0730 hours

"Okay, that's it for now," Lieutenant MacAllister announced as she looked at the men who were sitting at the table with her. "Y'all are doing great. Don't forget y'all have your first interviews with the review board at 0800 in the Officer's Club. Wear your Class A's and don't be nervous," she smiled in encouragement.

The woman quit smiling as she noticed who had entered the mess tent and was walking towards their table.

"Great," Klinger muttered, "King Kong has arrived." He tried to blend in with the furnishings as the other two corporals searched for escape routes. Ernie, who had been lying peacefully at the nurse's feet, crawled under the bench and began to growl as the fourth member of the study group approached.

"Hey, Igor," the muscular man called to the assistant cook, "I see that mutt's in here. So, what are you serving today…hot dogs?" He was enjoying his own joke even though none of the others seemed amused.

Reaching down to give the small animal a reassuring pat, the Texan asked, "Hitalski, how do you expect to pass the Sergeant's exam if you don't study for it?"

He shrugged, unconcerned, "I'll pass that test…Lieutenant. You can count on it."

* * *

"…Happy days are here again…." Hawkeye Pierce, while dressing near the warmth of the heater, was alternately singing and humming cheerfully.

Charles Winchester, attending to his own grooming, looked at the man in disgust, "Pierce, cease that caterwauling, at once!" He ordered. Ignoring him, the dark-haired surgeon continued his serenade.

"Hey, Hawk, why are you so chipper this morning?" B J Hunnicutt asked in amusement.

"Because, my fellow camp mates and curmudgeons, I haven't seen Flagg's scowling countenance for three whole days, now. And, any day without Colonel Flagg, is a day worth celebrating." He danced around the Swamp in his delight.

"Better save the celebrating until after the review board this morning," B J advised. "We're going to be late."

"Yes, time to cross-examine our corporals," Winchester agreed as he buttoned his coat. "Although I fail to see the necessity of this committee; it is far better than conducting latrine inspections. Gentlemen," the man from Boston pulled on his leather gloves, opened the door and gestured for them to follow, "let's get this over with."

* * *

Jan. 28th: 0900 hours

Cautiously opening the latrine door, Corporal Klinger scanned the area. This was becoming a nightmare. He hadn't realized he was going to have enemies on both sides of the war. Satisfied that he was alone, he stepped outside.

"Corporal," the unexpected voice startled the company clerk. He whirled to see who was behind him.

"Father Mulcahy!" The man panted in his fright. "Please, don't _ever_ sneak up on me like that, again!"

"I'm sorry, my son," the priest apologized. "The coast is clear. I saw Corporal Hitalski talking with Major Winchester near the Officer's Club," he reported.

"Do you think we need to rescue him?" The clerk asked in concern.

"I'm certain he's all right. Klinger, while I do not condone violence; I can teach you a few boxing maneuvers, if you like," Mulcahy offered.

"Thanks, Father; but I can handle it…I think," the man replied with a shake of his head.

"Well, if you change your mind, come see me," the clergy man stated. With a smile, he changed the subject, "So, how was your interview?"

His expression brightening, Corporal Klinger said, "I think it went all right. This one was just to confirm our eligibility…."

As the two men walked towards the hospital building, another conversation on the other side of camp was also occurring.

"I've got to pass the Sergeant's exam. This is my last chance," Corporal Hitalski was saying. He and Major Winchester were the only ones remaining near the Officer's Club.

Perturbed at being delayed, Winchester stared at the enlisted man standing nearby, "Then I suggest, Corporal, that you attend the study sessions, remove the wrinkles from your Class A uniform, and," the man looked at the mechanic's oil stained fingers in disdain, "clean your fingernails." He stepped around the larger man.

"No, you don't understand!" Hitalski moved to block his path. "I am going to pass this exam! And you're going to make sure of it."

"Corporal," the officer replied in a even tone, "the only thing I am going to make certain of; is to put you on report if you do not move out of my way."

"Okay," the enlisted man took one step backwards. "Just be careful, Major. With that bum knee of yours, I'd hate for you to fall and have an accident." With that, Hitalski walked away.

* * *

Once he was alone, Charles Winchester leaned against the metal wall of the building. He was pale and his heart was pounding. He knew that he had just been threatened; although the words themselves were innocuous. Drawing a ragged breath, he forced himself to regain his composure. Maybe he should have chosen the latrine duty, instead. It might have proven to be less hazardous. 


	26. 26

TWENTY SIX

* * *

Jan. 28th: 1600 hours

"So, what do you have?" The CID officer was waiting for the report from one of his agents.

"They arrived on the 17th. The first message went out the next day. We lost track of it somewhere near Yesan. But, yesterday, we managed to intercept the second one, in Haeju," a soldier replied.

"Haeju?" Colonel Flagg was looking at his map. "That's even further north than P'aju. No doubt about it; this message was headed straight to Kim Sung and all his Commie cronies. I bet it tells the position of every American soldier between here and the Chinese border."

"Actually, sir," the man seemed embarrassed, "it didn't have any military significance, at all. Translated, the note simply said: _children_ _healing; leaving for Kunsan, soon._"

"There's more to it than that. This is in some kind of code," the colonel stated. He frowned as he tried to puzzle out the meaning of the words. "Children…Chinese; healing…healing…helmet…helicopters. That's it!" He announced confidently, "The Chinese are going to be using helicopters to hit targets in Kunsan. And we'll be ready for them." The man looked at the map again. "Yes, we'll be ready for them…with enough firepower to make them wish their fathers had never met their mothers."

Flagg's assistant remained unconvinced. "Are you sure, sir?" He asked dubiously. "Knowing that those two kids were hurt and are still recovering at the MASH unit, it seems more likely that it's just a progress report on their condition."

"That's what they want us to think. They think they can trick us into thinking it's an just a simple note; but they didn't think I'd see through their trick because I don't think…I know there's more to it than what we think is in it."

Silently, as he listened to the convoluted reasoning, the other man thought, "_I don't think you know, either_." Outwardly, however, he kept his face expressionless. "If you say so, sir. Shall we continue the investigation to find out who was supposed to get that message?"

The colonel asked, "You have a name?'

"We have a name. But we don't know who he is, yet."

"Find him. And find him quickly. We have to know who he is and what he knows." The senior officer stared at the other man. "And, Myles, tell your men to maintain their surveillance on Pierce and that North Korean family. Potter has managed to convince the AG that I need solid evidence before I can remove them from his protection; but, the instant any of them leave the perimeter of that camp, I want them taken into custody. Got that?"

"Got it, sir," the man saluted and left the colonel's office.

Colonel Flagg studied the map again and nodded in satisfaction. Yes, they'd be ready for them..


	27. 27

TWENTY SEVEN

* * *

Jan. 30th: 0700 hours

"General Hawthorne, I assure you…," Colonel Flagg was speaking to the group of officers who had gathered to hear the latest developments within the various intelligence gathering agencies, "that this note is genuine! The Chinese are moving in on Kunsan!"

Dubiously, the head of the battle planning committee spoke, "I've had enough of your assurances already, Flagg. You were going to bring us Zheng He's head on a platter…remember?"

"And I will. But we need to move at least three divisions into that area immediately!"

General Hawthorne was still not convinced. He looked at the British soldier who was also attending this meeting. "How about it, Major?" He asked. "Is there any possibility that the Chinese are planning a helicopter raid on Kunsan?"

"Not likely, sir," the Intelligence officer responded in his clipped accent. "The Chinese do not have any long range helicopters that would reach that far. Even their fighter jets would have to refuel someplace. And, there have been no indications of extra preparations at the bases where they would need to replenish their fuel supplies."

"What about you, MacAllister? Anything to add?" The general questioned.

The Texan, who had been listening attentively to the CID officer's presentation, stood and walked over to the map on the wall. "Well sir," he drawled as he pointed out the location of the town in question, "Kunsan, located on the Yellow Sea, at the mouth of the Kŭm River, does have railways and a few manufacturing plants. It's probably not enough, however, to justify a full-scale attack from the Chinese."

The man continued, "Most of that sector is under the control of Allied forces. They would have to send in extra soldiers to support the air strikes. Reconnaissance over the area does not indicate that enemy troops are being repositioned. We haven't seen any movement of their airships closer to the borders. There hasn't been any 'chatter' from our sources about a change in tactics. There is nothing, so far, to suggest that a strike on Kunsan is imminent."

"They are going to hit that town!" Colonel Flagg spoke determinedly. "I have proof!"

"An unsigned note…to an unnamed person?" The general scoffed. "Flagg, if you want this panel to shift a majority of our troops to that sector, you're going to have to provide us with more evidence than that." Having given the man all of the attention he had intended to give, the senior officer looked at another person present, "Captain Nocaler, anything from Naval Intelligence on ship...?"

* * *

Inwardly seething as his information was rejected and his protests were ignored, Flagg made a silent promise, "I'll show them proof. And, when Kunsan falls, I'll remind them who tried to warn them." 


	28. 28

TWENTY EIGHT

* * *

Jan. 30th: 0830 hours

"Good news and good morning to all you good people," Corporal Klinger announced over the unit's loud speaker, "I've finished sorting the mail. And, I'll be delivering camp correspondence and personnel packages shortly."

* * *

Inside her tent, listening to the announcement, Lieutenant Parnelli commented, "It's about time!" She finished lacing her boots and reached for her coat. "The mail truck arrived over an hour ago. And now we have to go to post-op."

"I'm sure Klinger will bring us our letters, "Lieutenant Hernandez replied. She was also preparing to report for duty.

"He'll probably wait until he delivers everything else, first," the woman continued to complain as they left their tent and started across the compound.

* * *

Inside his tent, Father Mulcahy was sending up a thankful prayer. His sister, the sister, had sent a box of children's coats, gloves and clothing that she had collected. He would be able to provide the little ones at the orphanage with more warm clothing. He smiled to think of their happiness.

* * *

Margaret Houlihan smiled and read her letter a second time. Glenn Hodges, the handsome Corps of Engineers major, had asked if he could spend his two days leave with her. She wondered if Klinger had anything in his wardrobe that she could borrow.

* * *

Inside the Swamp, two men were blissfully reading their letters from home.

Yahoo!" B J Hunnicutt suddenly explained.

"What is it?" Hawkeye Pierce looked up from his dad's letter. His bunk mate was dancing around the Swamp in delight. "Share it...whatever it is!" He demanded.

"Peg thinks she might be pregnant!" Hunnicutt showed the man the letter. "She was right about Erin. So she's probably right now, too! She goes to the doctor next week to find out for certain. This is wonderful! This is great, Hawk!" Elated, the doctor continued his dance.

"And this time..." B J suddenly stopped his cavorting. "And this time, I'm not going to miss a minute of watching my kid grow up. Not one minute!"

* * *

In the hospital ward, waiting for their replacements, Lieutenant MacAllister greeted the company clerk with a smile, "Goodness Klinger, someone's in a good mood on this good morning."

Major Winchester, the physician on duty, muttered, "And what, pray tell, is so good about it?"

"For one good thing, my good sir," the corporal responded. "I left a package for you on your bed. It feels like a tape recording reel."

"A recording from Honoria?" Major Winchester questioned, eagerly.

Klinger grinned. He had caught the medical officer's interest with that news. "I think so, sir. These are for you, Lieutenant Campbell," the man handed the other ward nurse her letters.

"Thanks, Klinger!" Liza smiled happily as she looked at the handwriting on her mail.

"I left two packages at your ranch house, Lieutenant," he informed the Texan. "I also have a whole stack of letters for you." The man showed her the handful of envelopes addressed to her.

MacAllister grinned. "Oh, boy! Milam said he was sending me some pictures of his newest little one. I can't wait to see what she looks like."

* * *

When Captain Hunnicutt reported for his ward duty, his excitement was obvious. Taking Lieutenant MacAllister by the arm, he pulled her towards the curtained area in post-op. "Sarabeth! Come here! Come here!" He urged.

Puzzled by his exuberance, she followed him without resistance. Major Winchester followed them, as well. "What's going on?" She asked.

B J kissed the woman on her forehead, "That's from me."

He kissed her on her right cheek, "That's from Peg Hunnicutt."

He kissed her on the left cheek, "That's from Erin Hunnicutt."

He kissed her a fourth time, "And that's from the little one who doesn't even have a name, yet."

The Texan asked, "Captain, what are you talking about?"

"My newest son or daughter...I don't know which! Peg thinks she might be pregnant! Isn't that wonderful?!" He hugged her tightly.

"That is wonderful! Congratulations!!" Sarabeth MacAllister exclaimed.

"Yes, congratulations," the doctor from Massachusetts spoke, "to you and your lady."

Captain Hunnicutt shook his hand enthusiastically and then turned to the other nurse. "Liza! Liza! Did you hear the news?!"

Smiling at him with affectionate amusement, MacAllister turned to Winchester, "I just hate to see a man that depressed, don't you?"

"Indeed," the major agreed. "He does need cheering up, doesn't he?"

* * *

Enjoying the smiles that he was leaving behind in his wake, the company clerk carried the last batch of mail to the enlisted men's tent. Ernie, who had been following him, hesitated at the entrance. "It's okay, boy," Max Klinger assured the small dog. "I made sure he was busy at the motor pool before I headed this way."

The clerk handed out the mail to the men who were present. He tossed his last envelope, a torn and mud-spattered one, onto a bed. Too bad that Corporal Hitalski's letter had fallen into that puddle and had been run over by that jeep.


	29. 29

TWENTY NINE

* * *

Feb. 1st: 1100 hours

The Korean family was preparing to leave the MASH unit. The ox was hitched in his yoke. Their meager belongings were tied to the sides of the farm cart. With Colonel Potter's permission, additional food and medical supplies had been added, as well.

The children had been released after their final examination by Doctors Pierce and Hunnicutt. Clutching the handmade toys they had been given, they were already sitting in the comfortable bed of hay and blankets prepared for them.

The adults, with their limited knowledge of the English language, were thanking the members of the MASH unit, again and again. Most of the camp personnel were gathered around the family to say goodbye.

Colonel Potter, who had received a state-side call from his wife, the guards on perimeter duty and Corporal Hitalski and Lieutenant Parnelli were the exceptions.

* * *

"What makes you so sure that you're going to pass the Sergeant's exam?" Monica Parnelli asked as she and the mechanic walked away from the crowd. Both of them had a couple of hours off and they were planning to spend that time at Rosie's bar.

"If a certain major knows what's good for him, I'll pass," Elmo Hitalski smirked.

"And, if he doesn't?" The woman asked.

"Then, he'll be using a cane…permanently," he asserted.

Just as the two reached the outskirts of the compound, a jeep heading towards the compound passed them. Recognizing the passenger, Parnelli quickly hid behind her companion. The vehicle continued down the track. Happy that she hadn't been noticed, she announced, "Colonel Flagg's back." The woman added, "I bet he's here to arrest Hawkeye again. Let's go watch."

"Want me to tip his jeep over again?"

"Sure," she grinned, "Just make sure he doesn't catch you. He wasn't very happy last time."

When Hitalski and Parnelli walked around the bend of the road, they discovered that the Army vehicle had stopped and that the CID officer was waiting for them. Inwardly groaning, the nurse moved closer to the corporal.

Colonel Flagg had an appraising look for the muscular man. He said, "I need someone to keep an eye on my jeep. I don't want anything to happen to it…this time. You look like you can handle that."

The mechanic seemed reluctant, "I don't know, sir. I've got to study for my Sergeant's exam." The woman glanced up at him in surprise. Before she could say anything, Hitalski continued, "But, I guess I could study some other time."

"If you keep this jeep right side up and in one piece," the officer promised, "I'll talk to whoever is in charge of that exam."

Corporal Hitalski grinned, "That would be Major Winchester."

The colonel nodded, "Winchester? I'll talk him; you can count on that."

The mechanic said, "And you can count on me, sir. Nobody will get near that jeep."

"And you're just in time, Colonel Flagg," Lieutenant Parnelli added, "Those Koreans are leaving." She was surprised that, instead of becoming annoyed, the senior officer seemed pleased to hear her information.

"Are they, now? Perfect," Flagg replied as he climbed back into his vehicle and told his driver to continue onward. "This is getting better and better."

* * *

Hawkeye Pierce shook his head as he saw who was riding in the Army jeep. "Oh look, Colonel Flagg has returned; no doubt, fetters and floggings to follow."

The vehicle stopped near the group. As the CID officer surveyed the people, Corporal Hitalski took up a position of alert protectiveness nearby. "Your jeep is safe with me," he proclaimed loudly. "Don't forget about talking to the head of the review board for me." He stared pointedly at the second-in-command officer.

Charles Winchester tried not to flinch as he met that gaze.

Nearby, Margaret Houlihan muttered in disbelief, "Listen to that!"

"Hitalski makes some unusual friends, doesn't he?" B J Hunnicutt observed.

Pierce commented, "This is too much. I can almost overlook him tripping Klinger and wrecking Rosie's," the man spoke glibly. "But, aiding and abetting Flagg…he has got to go."

* * *

Sarabeth MacAllister, noticing the change of expression on Winchester's face, pulled him away from the others. "Major, has Corporal Hitalski has been threatening you?" She asked in concern.

Trying to act nonchalant, the doctor asked, "What makes you think that?"

"That smirk he just gave you." The Texan looked the man sternly, "Now, answer my question; has Hitalski been threatening you?"

"The corporal has been rather---_insistent_---that he be promoted to sergeant," Winchester conceded. "Since I am the chairman of the committee, he wants my official recommendation."

"Are you going to give him the recommendation he wants?" MacAllister asked. She was watching him intently.

"Sarabeth, during this tour of duty, the man has been arrested a dozen times for fighting. He practices the art of coercion. He will, no doubt, fail the Sergeant's exam, miserably. In short, he is the perfect candidate for promotion."

"Are you going to give him the recommendation?" She repeated her question.

"I did consider it. However, I can not, in good conscience, sanction such a travesty."

"Do Hawkeye and B J know about his threats?"

"I informed them about our conversations. They were not concerned. And you should not be concerned either, my dear. He wouldn't dare strike a superior officer."

"He best not," the woman declared with quiet fierceness. "MacAllisters take care of our own. And, we stand by our friends, as well. Uh oh…" Seeing that Hawkeye Pierce was moving purposely toward the visiting colonel, the two hurried back.

* * *

Captain Pierce called out, "Here I am, Colonel." He extended his hands before him, "Ready for your chains and conspiracy charges."

Ignoring the Chief Surgeon, and the other people glaring at him, the government agent examined the ox cart and its contents. "Going somewhere?" He asked. Despite his mild tone, the Korean refugees clung to each other in fright.

"You can't keep them from leaving," Margaret Houlihan declared firmly.

Colonel Flagg looked at the senior nurse in contempt, "These Commies have been using supplies that should have been given to American soldiers. If I had my way, they would have been…removed…long ago," he noted. "But, following orders, I'm not going to stop them."

Hoping to distract the colonel from his attention on the refugees, Pierce spoke up again, "So, what will my punishment be this time? Drawn and quartered? Boiling oil? I rather fancy walking the plank, myself."

The Chief Surgeon was unprepared for the expansive smile that the Intelligence agent gave him.


	30. 30

THIRTY

* * *

Feb. 1st: 1130 hours

"… The approach will be the same," the military officer was briefing his men. "We'll fly low to the drop zone. Then work our way into position around the perimeters. Bryce, your team will come in from the south; O'Neill, yours from the southwest," he indicated the areas on the map. "Sterling, you and Washington are going to have to work fast to wire that ammo cache. The rest of us will…."

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," a communications clerk approached the group. "But you said you were to be notified immediately if we ever received this code." He handed the red headed officer a sheet of paper.

The officer read the note and frowned. "Gentlemen, our midnight stroll through the countryside may be delayed," he announced. "Stand by." Catching the eye of the other red-haired man in the room, he motioned for him to follow.

* * *

"What's the matter?" Fannin MacAllister asked as the two men stepped outside.

His older brother handed him the paper without comment. After reading it, the pilot said, "If she's hollering for help, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Read it again," Crockett MacAllister replied. "She says she's not in any danger but that she needs to speak to me…right away."

"So what are we waiting for?" The younger officer repeated more urgently. "Let's go!"

"It's not that simple, little brother," the Texan said in his calm drawl. "Right now, the two of us are enjoying the amenities of the Pink Pagoda in Seoul. We have some very reliable witnesses who will swear to that, remember?"

"So how are you going to talk to her?"

"Don't worry. I'll finagle something…."

* * *

One hour later, a phone call was placed to the 4077th. The message was a short one: _Yellow Rose, mare, 2 hours_.

* * *

Two hours later, Lieutenant MacAllister approached a camp guard. "Howdy, Corporal," she smiled in greeting. "I see they've got you working the fence line, instead of the serving line, today."

Igor Stimenski, whose usual assignment was working in the kitchen, smiled back at the woman. "Since the MPs were reassigned after they cancelled the alert, the colonel has put us back on guard duty rotation." The man shrugged, "It's better than listening to everyone gripe about the food."

MacAllister gestured towards the nearby horse corral, "I'm going out to see Sophie. I'll be right back."

"Sorry, Lieutenant," the guard shook his head. "You know Colonel Potter still has the restrictions about traveling alone outside the compound. I'll call someone to go with you."

"No!" The woman said quickly. Hesitantly, she tried to explain, "You know Lieutenant Cochlan; that Australian soldier that I like? He called and said his outfit was just over that hill. He's going to slip away and he wants me to meet him. If someone sees him, he'll get into trouble."

Reluctantly, Stimenski shook his head, "No can do."

"I'll just be a few minutes," she announced as she side-stepped the sentry.

Reaching out, he caught her arm, "Sorry, ma'am. You are not going out there alone."

Her friendly expression replaced by a more stubborn one, the nurse arched an eyebrow in warning at the man, "Corporal.…"

Just then, a strange whistle was heard. Both of them whirled around as a man moved away from the side of the barn. Holding his rifle, and his arms, away from his body so that the guard would recognize his peaceful intentions, the soldier walked towards them. An Australian voice called out, "Hello, Texas."


	31. 31

THIRTY ONE

* * *

Astonished because she thought she had been making up the tale about meeting him, Sarabeth quickly hid her surprise and drawled back at the approaching officer, "Howdy, Outback."

Pulling away from the corporal who had been trying to restrain her, she was swept up in strong embrace and a hearty kiss. After Cochlan released her, MacAllister's face was flushed with embarrassment. But she smiled up at the man from 'down under'.

"You're doing a good job, soldier," the military officer commented. "Now, how about being a good mate and let me have a few minutes alone with the prettiest nurse in Korea? We won't be long. I have to get back to my outfit within the hour."

"Please?" Sarabeth asked. She gave him such a beseeching look that Stimenski found his resistance crumbling.

"You will keep her safe?" He demanded sternly.

"I'll protect her with my life," Lieutenant Cochlan pledged earnestly.

* * *

As the two moved away, MacAllister asked, "Mitch, what?..."

Before she could continue, the Australian officer wrapped his arm around her waist and murmured to her, "Sh-h-h, the bushes have eyes and ears."

Silently, side by side, they walked to the corral. Reaching the enclosure, the nurse turned and gave a reassuring wave to the guard who was watching them. Then she and the soldier disappeared around the side of Sophie's shed.

Once around the corner, still holding onto the woman, Cochlan pushed a loose strand of her hair back under her hat and grinned. In a low voice, he said, "I'm just the _window_ _dressing_. Wait here." In a more normal tone, he announced, "Excuse me a minute; Nature calls."

Moments later, the man emerged from behind the tree. From a distance, his appearance was exactly the same; he was wearing the same uniform, jacket and helmet and was carrying the same rifle. Sarabeth MacAllister, however, was struggling to keep her face expressionless as the soldier, who had grown taller, walked to her side.

Giving the woman a hug and a kiss on the forehead, the man whispered, "Sorry for the subterfuge, little sister."

* * *

Sitting close together, the couple looked as if they were sharing a tender moment.

Their discussion was not at all romantic, however. "…And then the colonel gave him a smile that would have made a barracuda proud and said: '_I'll come back for you. Right now, I have found the bait to catch a much larger fish_'. He walked over to the mother and said something to her that put her into hysterics."

Still talking softly, Sarabeth continued, "I really couldn't understand what she was saying, but; it was obvious that she was begging him not to do something. He smiled the same way at her and got in his jeep and left."

Keeping his voice low, as well, Crockett questioned, "Do you know what he said to her?"

"Yunjin…whatever that means."

"Yunjin?" The man frowned. That name set off alarm bells in his mind. Suddenly he remembered where he had heard that name before. With a curse that was hastily stifled, the G-2 officer knew why P'aju had kept bobbing up in his thoughts. Of all the hundreds of refugees on the roads, somehow Flagg had managed to stumble onto that particular family. "What happened next?"

"Hawkeye gave her a sedative. They unhitched the ox but left the wagon loaded. I think they're planning to try again at first light."

The older Texan shook his head, "Flagg has men posted all around this camp. They'll pounce on those people as soon as they step outside the compound." Thinking quickly, MacAllister tried to develop a strategy. He could not intervene directly…not without compromising his own cover and ruining the credibility of some high ranking officers. Silently composing, and rejecting, several scenarios, he finally spoke to his sister who had been waiting patiently, "Okay, here's what we're going to do…."

* * *

Arm in arm, Lieutenants Cochlan and MacAllister strolled back to where Igor Stimenski was still on sentry duty. "Thanks, Corporal," the nurse smiled at the man. She looked at the soldier who was standing beside her, "Be careful out there, Mitch. I hope you'll stay longer, next time."

"You can count on it, Texas," the Australian replied. With another kiss that left her red-faced, the soldier walked back along the path they had taken.

As he passed by a particular tree, a man who was leaning against the trunk, hidden amongst the foliage, spoke to him, "Thanks for your help, Lieutenant," he spoke quietly.

"Any time, sir," the soldier replied, equally as soft.

He started the hike back towards the hill where his men were waiting but turned as he heard the Texan say, "Cochlan, one more thing…" From the shadows, Crocket MacAllister whispered, in stern warning, "Don't kiss my sister like that again."

To his surprise, the other man grinned, unabashedly, at him. "Sorry, mate," he replied. "Only the lady can make that decision."


	32. 32

THIRTY TWO

* * *

Hurrying across the compound to the medical unit headquarters, Lieutenant MacAllister was reviewing everything she would need to accomplish; so many things to set up, so little time to get it done and so many ways that the plan that could go wrong. She glanced at the VIP tent where the Koreans were staying. "I sure hope we can pull this off, big brother," she muttered.

Stepping into the outer office, the nurse was met by a harassed looking company clerk. "Lieutenant!" he exclaimed. "Where have you been? Major Houlihan has been looking all over for camp for you. And, boy, is she on the warpath!"

Shrugging away his concern, the woman directed, "Corporal, go ask Father Mulcahy to report to the colonel's office right away. And get those phone lines warmed up. We're going to need them."

"What about Major Houlihan?" the man asked.

"Sorry, Klinger; you'll just have to cut her off at the pass," Sarabeth answered. She was already knocking, urgently, at the colonel's door.

Pulling on his coat, looking confused, Corporal Klinger stepped outside and headed for the priest's tent. He didn't mind finding Mulcahy...but trying to tell Major Margaret Houlihan that her second-in-command was too busy to report to her…_that_ was going to be hair-raising. With that image in his mind, he shuddered and muttered, "And, I'm the one that is going to be _scalped_."

* * *

Feb. 1st: 1630 hours

Alone in the Swamp, Captain B J Hunnicutt sat at the desk and reread the last few paragraphs of his letter to his wife. For a day that had started out so wonderful, it had certainly turned into a very peculiar one. He picked up his pen and resumed writing:

_The kids looked so cute, Peg. Little Hsu was wearing the red hair ribbon that Sarabeth had given her. And the rag doll, which Kellye made for her, had the same color ribbon in her thread hair. Her brother was proudly showing off the wooden horse that Colonel Potter had carved for him. _

_It's too bad Colonel Flagg decided to show up before they could get safely away. He was acting really strange—even stranger than usual. Hawkeye was trying hard to goad him but Flagg simply ignored him. He left the camp, looking as Luther Rizzo expressed it, 'as happy as a possum in a persimmon patch.'_

_After we got their mother sedated and the rest of the family calmed down, we sent Klinger to collect Margaret and Sarabeth. Since Charles had gone to speak to Colonel Potter for some reason, we decided to hold a meeting in the Swamp. He had asked for our help with Hitalski earlier; and, although Hawk and I had pretended to be indifferent to his plight, we knew that something had to be done to protect him. Besides, as Hawkeye proclaimed, Hitalski guarding Flagg's jeep this morning was the last straw._

_Klinger returned with Margaret and said Sarabeth was making a phone call and would appear shortly. When she arrived, after much discussion, we came up with a plan to get rid of our least favorite corporal. Operation Heave-Ho will begin as soon as the results of the Sergeant's exam are posted—probably in about five days._

_About an hour after that, Klinger said Sarabeth had a call come in for her. About two hours after that, she disappeared. Before she left, she must had said something to upset Charles. He came back to the Swamp muttering about 'what could be more important than spending an afternoon with me'. Margaret was angry about something and got even angrier when a cursory search of the camp revealed no trace of our Texan._

_When she finally returned (from checking on Sophie…according to Klinger) she went straight to Colonel Potter's office. There has been a flurry of activity ever since. Father Mulcahy and a guard drove away in a jeep. Hawkeye was told to pack a bag for a couple of days stay and report to a battalion aide station about 15 miles away. A helicopter arrived very soon after that to take him there. Colonel Potter posted a guard around the Korean's tent. Klinger has a crew of enlisted men reinforcing the windows in the hospital building. Monica Parnelli is looking smug about something. And now, Margaret seems to have disappeared._

_As I said before, this has turned out to be a very unusual day. Of course, the best part of all this is still your wonderful news!! I can't wait to find out if you really are pregnant! Please call me as soon as you know for certain. _

_I love you, my darling. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. How lucky I was to trip over your bag in the college book store that day; even though I did knock over that display of calculus books, bruise my wrist and…. _

_

* * *

_

Rubbing her aching forehead, Lieutenant MacAllister walked towards her tent. So many ifs…if Mulcahy could locate that black market dealer; if Hawkeye would stay away long enough to establish an alibi; if she could manage to sprain her ankle without actually spraining it; if Crockett and Fannin could take care of their assignments without being discovered; if they could make an ox, a cart with a squeaky wheel and five people completely vanish….

And, to top it off, Charles was mad at her. Major Houlihan, according to all accounts, was even madder at her. Wanting to get the yelling over with, the nurse had tried to locate her senior officer. Houlihan wasn't in her tent, the Officer's Club or the hospital. Wondering where the head nurse could be, the Texan opened the door to her quarters and found the answer to her question.

Sitting at her table, playing a game of Solitaire, Major Margaret Houlihan looked up at her arrival. Ernie, who had followed the redheaded woman into the tent, sensibly turned tail and ran back outside. The Texan squared her shoulders and braced for the storm.

She didn't have long to wait. The blonde-haired charge nurse was livid. "MacAllister," she rumbled. "I want a word with you…."


	33. 33

THIRTY THREE

* * *

After climbing down the ladder, and setting her bucket of disinfectant on the floor, Lieutenant MacAllister rubbed her forehead. Her headache had certainly not gotten any better. Major Houlihan's heated words were still buzzing in her ears: '_How dare you slip away to meet someone…supposed to be setting an __example…written reprimand.…'_

Without saying anything in her own defense, MacAllister had listened to the older woman's tirade; knowing that, from her point of view, the senior officer was justified in her anger; knowing also that she couldn't reveal the real reason for the trip to the horse barn…not even to escape the punishment certain to follow.

So now, the Texan found herself cleaning and disinfecting the operating room, the preparation area and the hospital ward; and then on to the counting and rearranging of the medical supplies. It was going to be a long night.

With a sigh, she moved the ladder to the next section of the OR wall. At least this would give her a solid alibi. Crockett had been concerned that Colonel Flagg would come after Hawkeye Pierce, and possibly her, as well, when he discovered the Korean family had disappeared—right out from under his nose.

And, while her brother had explained parts of his plan to her, he hadn't told her anything else about those particular people except to say that they were a peripheral part of a very intricate, and very important, operation that had taken months to set up. And, that Flagg must not get his hands on them.

* * *

Hearing the door open, dreading to hear the head nurse's voice again, Sarabeth turned to see who had entered. She smiled a welcome to the man standing there, "Howdy, Charles." She added, "I'm sorry I didn't come back to the Swamp, like I said I would. I ended up over here before I had the chance…."

Instead of smiling in return, Winchester replied, stiffly, "I must admit, this appears to be an appropriate punitive consequence for lying to me."

Raising an eyebrow in surprise at the antagonism behind his words, she answered, "Charles, I did not lie to you."

Haughtily, the surgeon stated, "The rank is Major. The name is Winchester. Do you suppose you are capable of addressing me properly, Lieutenant?"

Hiding her own sudden flash of resentment behind forced politeness, the Texan drawled, "I reckon I might be able to handle that, sir." With even more formality, MacAllister continued, "Major Winchester, I did not lie to you. I told you that something important had come up and that I had to take care of it, first."

"And, I find out that…what is more important than spending the afternoon with me…is you out…_cavorting_…with some common soldier," the man from Boston answered. Hiding his hurt and disappointment behind arrogance, Winchester added, "Since you have obviously made your choice, to use one of your own back-water, country-bumpkin expressions: '_you will simply have to ride the horse you draw_'." With that, the officer left the room and slammed the door behind him.

A scrub brush hit the closed wooden barrier with a hard thump.

* * *

Still fuming, the redheaded nurse had resumed her cleaning duties. "_Cavorting…common soldier…_" she was muttering to herself, "And I know just who told him that…."

Imagining how a certain Yankee and a certain blabbermouth would react to being introduced to an ant hill and a jar of honey, the woman smiled. She was regaining some of her sense of humor when she heard the operating room door open again.

Turning to see who had entered, she asked, without a flicker of welcome, "What are you doing here?"

Monica Parnelli shrugged, "Just checking on your progress. Too bad you're going to miss tonight's movie," she gloated. "I understand it was one you were looking forward to seeing. But that's what you get for slobbering all over Cochlan like that."

"That is it! I have had enough!!" MacAllister declared. She threw the brush into the bucket, splashing the liquid everywhere. Advancing toward the woman, she said, "Parnelli, I am sick and tired of your tattletales. I'm going to stomp you so hard…."

With a squeal of fear, the other nurse ran out of the room. Stopping at the closed door, Sarabeth grinned. She'd probably get written up for that, as well…but, it had sure felt good.

* * *

When the door opened a third time, Lieutenant MacAllister gripped the scrub brush tightly; if either Winchester or Parnelli had dared to return….

Turning to see who had entered, she gave a welcoming smile to the woman standing there, "Howdy, Christie. What are you doing here? Don't you know that I'm a bad influence on the entire nursing staff?"

Lieutenant Baker made a dismissing sound. "Sarabeth, don't worry about pre-op; Kellye and Sherry are taking care of it," she informed the other nurse. "Sandra and Linda are working on the medical supply lists. And, Liza, Jeanette and I will get the hospital done."

"No!" MacAllister stated firmly. "I don't want y'all to get into trouble with Major Houlihan. Thanks, but call everybody off. I'll get it done."

The woman shook her head, "Houlihan is busy talking to Colonel Hodges. B J had Klinger ring him up and tell him that she needed a long, cheerful phone call. He's going to warn us when she hangs up."

The Texan frowned, "I don't want y'all getting into any trouble."

"Listen, when Tony and I were first married," Baker explained, "we didn't have time for much of a honeymoon. So, when he arrived here, with just a few hours leave, Hawkeye, B J, and practically everyone else in this camp, got involved. They even lied to the colonel about having to set a quarantine perimeter around the VIP tent…just so we could spend some time alone together."

Smiling, the nurse added, "Of course, when Major Houlihan found out, I was scrubbing the same walls that you're scrubbing now. But, everyone pitched in then, too. And, just being with Tony was worth it. Just as I'm sure being with Mitch was worth it to you, too."

Staring into the distance, MacAllister whispered, "I sure hope so." Then, with a smile, the Texan looked at the other woman, "Thank everyone for me. I really appreciate it. Make sure y'all listen for Klinger's signal. And…most importantly…don't get caught!"

With a laugh, Christie said, "Oh, don't worry about Parnelli, either. We've got something really _good_ planned for her."

"No," Sarabeth replied with a wicked grin, "Leave her to me…."


	34. 34

THIRTY FOUR

* * *

Feb. 2nd: 0300 hours

Stretching to ease the muscles in his back, Hawkeye Pierce then pulled his blanket tighter around his body. He looked around the battalion aide station to discover what had awakened him. He saw only the sentries passing by. Things had been pretty quiet since they had patched up and called in transport for their last wounded solider, hours ago.

While the aide station surgeon and his medics had been grateful for his help, they hadn't been as overrun as he had been led to believe. First thing in the morning, if things were still quiet, he'd call the colonel and see if he really needed to stay an extra day.

Shivering, Pierce thought about his tent mates. By now, B J and Charles would be sound asleep, safe and, more importantly, warm inside the Swamp. He envied them as he tried to find a comfortable spot on the ground. The next time he was assigned to help out at one of these aide stations, he was definitely going to insist on a feather mattress…and a goose down comforter…and maybe a tall, slinky blonde as a bed warmer….

* * *

B J Hunnicutt and Charles Winchester were neither warm, nor, as far as they were concerned, safe. Minutes earlier, tracer rockets had lit up the night sky. They were quickly followed by an intensive barrage of artillery shelling that had everyone hunting for cover.

Colonel Potter quickly placed the camp under blackout conditions and called for all of his people to gather inside the mess tent. As the heaters were lit, and the frightened people huddled around them, no one seemed to notice that the mortar shells were missing the hospital compound. They were close enough to rattle windows, and nerves, but not, fortunately, close enough to actually rattle bones.

And, no one seemed to notice that the five Koreans had not come into the mess tent with the rest of the medical personnel. No one, except the camp commander and a red-haired nurse who caught each other's glance and nodded; everything was, fingers crossed, going according to plan.

Nearly an hour later, when the big guns stopped, the 4077th personnel breathed a sigh of relief. Wanting to get out of the cramped quarters and to examine the damage, they quickly retreated back into the relative safety of the tent, as the shelling began again. This time, the road leading away from the compound seemed to be the main target.

Only after that second barrage was over, did anyone realize that the civilians under their care were nowhere to been seen. An extensive search of the camp revealed no Korean children hobbling around, with mother and grandparents in tow. Their ox and cart were gone, as well. Inside the VIP tent, however, a startling sight was discovered.

* * *

Luther Rizzo, the man who had been assigned to guard the Korean family, was bound, gagged and tied to a support post. With him, also tied to the tent posts, were seven Military Policemen.

As each man was freed, and examined for injuries, Sergeant Rizzo shakily told his story. "I heard a noise, turned around, and the next thing I know, I was hogtied," he reported in his gravely Louisiana accent. "These boys were already in here. We've spent the past two hours listening to those mortars fall around us. And, now, begging the colonel's pardon, I'm going to the Officer's Club…for some _medicinal_ comfort," the man announced. To himself, he added silently "And to my tent…for a new pair of skivvies."

The seven Military Policemen were also unharmed; except for the lumps on their heads and their acute embarrassment. They refused to answer any questions. The senior man present, who said his name was Myles, asked, sheepishly, that Colonel Flagg be notified.


	35. 35

THIRTY FIVE

* * *

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Colonel Flagg roared at the men standing at attention before him. Chagrined, the soldiers could only shrug in reply. They couldn't explain how they came to be trussed and muzzled inside a MASH unit tent, either.

Furious at their failure, the CID officer paced in front of them. They could hear snatches of his monologue, "…Kunsan…last chance…have to find them. How did they did get away?" With that question, the officer spun to glare at the Military Policemen. A vein was throbbing on the side of his face and there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "How did they did get away from you?" he asked with an angry growl.

"We called for roadblocks and notified all the checkpoint stations," Captain Myles answered, hesitantly. He tried not to flinch as Flagg focused his attention on him. "They couldn't have gone too far, Colonel."

* * *

"…They couldn't have gone too far, Colonel," B J Hunnicutt was saying as he paced in front of his commanding officer. "Can't we call the checkpoints and ask them to be on the lookout for them?"

Colonel Potter looked at the surgeon with sympathetic eyes. "Son", he spoke softly, "perhaps it's best if we just let them go."

The captain shook his head, "We can't. We have to find out where they are; if they have enough food; if they have a place to stay…." In anguish, the man implored, "Please, Colonel…they're just kids…babies. We've got to know if they're all right."

Giving in, the senior officer nodded, "All right, Hunnicutt; I'll tell Klinger to start tracking them down."

* * *

Almost an hour later, a jeep pulled into the compound and stopped in front of the hospital building. Hearing the engine, the company clerk walked out of his office to investigate. The driver of the vehicle asked for the commander of the outfit.

Colonel Potter opened the door to the clerk's office, "Klinger, go get Father Mulcahy." There was sadness in his voice. "And tell Captain Hunnicutt we have something to show him."

* * *

B J Hunnicutt stared into the back of the jeep in disbelief. The items there would haunt his dreams for many a night: a piece of an Army blanket that, even with scorch marks and dark stains, the stenciled numbers '4077' could still be read; the charred head of what used to be a wooden toy horse; and a dirty, tattered red ribbon that had once been tied around a young girl's hair.

Stunned, having trouble breathing, he heard the soldier say, "They must have taken a direct hit…debris everywhere…this was all that was still identifiable."

"No," Hunnicutt whispered, "It can't be."

* * *

The memorial service held that evening was an especially solemn one. Mulcahy led his grieving flock in a prayer for the innocent souls that had been lost. The camp commander and a red-haired nurse exchanged a glance and added their own silent prayer that everything was, still, going according to plan. 


	36. 36

THIRTY SIX

* * *

Feb 5th: 0700 hours

The company clerk paused in his letter writing. While he no longer had to pretend that he was stationed at Fort Dix, he still did not want to tell his mother everything that happened here in Korea. Klinger decided not to tell her that Colonel Flagg had practically torn the camp apart looking for some clue as to the whereabouts of the Korean family; or that he had grilled poor Rizzo intently; that he had threatened to shoot Hawkeye on sight; or that the Swamp surgeons had gotten very drunk after the memorial service.

No, he wouldn't tell her any of that; although, he had left a message for Colonel MacAllister to call him. He was going to let him know that Flagg had cornered Sarabeth in her office (no one knew what was said in there but he had come out with a pronounced limp). Instead, he simply added: _They were real sweet kids, Ma. I'm going to miss them_.

Colonel Potter walked out of his office. He was smiling broadly and held a sheet of paper in his hand. "I'm going to post the results of the Sergeant's exam, Klinger. Care to take a look at it?"

"Uh, I'll be there in just a minute, sir," the clerk responded. He quickly placed his pen and paper in a desk drawer. While he was anxious to see the results, he knew that someone else would be even more anxious, and angrier, at the outcome. Time for Operation: Heave-Ho to begin. And, it was time for him to vanish for awhile.

* * *

Later in the morning, Max Klinger retrieved his letter and began writing again:

_You are going to be so proud of me, Ma, when Uncle Abdul reads this part of my letter to you. Guess what? The Sergeant's list was posted today. And I made it!! That's right. Your son is now a sergeant in the U. S. Army!! It's funny. All this time, I've tried so hard to get thrown out of the Army. And yet, I'm proud of this step-up in rank! Strange how things work out, isn't it?_

_Remember Corporal Hitalski? I wrote to you about him. For several days, I've been doing my best to stay out of his way. I don't have to worry about him any longer, however. That's some more of my good news. We got rid of him---just a couple of hours ago._

_Hitalski was also hoping to be promoted. Except that he didn't bother to study or anything. He tried a more direct approach. He threatened Major Winchester with severe bodily injury if he didn't make the Sergeant's list. _

_We all knew that his name wouldn't be on it. We also knew that he would head straight for Major Winchester. We came up with a plan to get rid of him, once and for all._

_The only problem was going to be in getting Hitalski away from the major without anyone getting hurt. Captain Pierce had said that Sarabeth would be the perfect bait. But, Major Houlihan said she would because she wouldn't have her nurses do anything that she wouldn't do. Hawkeye pointed out that he hadn't shown any interest in her (although, why, he didn't know) and that Sarabeth would have to be the one to draw him away from Major Winchester._

_Of course we were afraid that Sarabeth wouldn't be able to handle Hitalski. He was just too powerful. And she could get hurt. She reminded us that she grew up with six brothers who had made sure she could defend herself._ _And then she grinned and said she intended to have a little insurance in her back pocket. Hawkeye asked her what...a baseball bat? Sarabeth laughed and said she had something even better. She asked how many CCs of our strongest sedative did we think we would need?_

_Anyway, this morning, the colonel posted the list. My name was on it. Hitalski's was not. He read the notice, tore it off the board and shredded the paper. I didn't actually see this, of course. I was very carefully 'making myself scarce'. _

_But the people we had asked to watch him, kept us informed. Hitalski went straight to the Officer's Club and started drinking. When he was thrown out of there, he started looking for Major Winchester. That's when we went into action._

_The major was on duty in post-op. By the time we arrived, Hitalski had Major Winchester flat on his back, across a hospital bed. Luckily, there wasn't a patient underneath him. Hitalski was holding his shirt tight around his neck and was threatening to pound him into hamburger meat. _

_That's when Sarabeth came running into the ward from the outside doors. Her hair wasn't tied back like it usually is. She wasn't wearing a coat, either. She was carrying a shirt in one hand. And her other hand was on her hip, next to her back pocket. She stopped just out of Hitalski's range and gave him a dazzling smile that would have melted butter on a cold day._

"_There you are!" Sarabeth sounded so happy to see him. "I've been looking every where for you! Congratulations, Hitalski." He looked at her in surprise. So did the major, for that matter. _

"_What are you talking about?" Hitalski demanded. Sarabeth said: "I'm congratulating you on making Sergeant." He said: "I didn't make Sergeant. And it's all his fault!" He increased the pressure on the major's throat. Sarabeth stepped closer to him. Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt and I almost came out from behind the curtain because we were afraid she was going to attack him, right then and there. _

_But she continued smiling at him. She told him HQ had just called and his name had been left off the list by mistake. He still didn't believe her. Sarabeth held up the shirt and said she had sewn that third stripe on his shirt, herself. And then she said: "Come on, Elmo. Let's go celebrate. I'll buy you a beer." He told her: "All right! I knew you'd change your mind about me, doll!" _

_Hitalski dropped Winchester like a sack of potatoes. He started moving towards Sarabeth who was backing away from him. __That's when the three of us rushed in. Major Houlihan, with another filled syringe, Father Mulcahy and the rest of the medics were waiting outside--just in case._

_We were calling his name and shouting congratulations. We surrounded him and effectively separated him from Sarabeth and the major. Then, we started telling him the story we had concocted. We told him, not only had HQ confirmed his promotion, but they had also changed his orders. He was to report to Tokyo, immediately!_

_By rushing him and not giving him a chance to think, we confused him enough to believe us. (Hitalski's not too bright to begin with. If he were, he might have noticed that Sarabeth's smile had never reached her eyes.) Captain Pierce hung the shirt over Hitalski's shoulders. I shoved his duffel bag into his arms. And Captain Hunnicutt handed him his travel orders and his jeep voucher. Then, we guided, and pushed, him out the door and to his waiting jeep._

_As soon he drove away, we ran into my office and called the closest MP checkpoint. I told them Hitalski was drunk, had tried to deck an officer, was impersonating a sergeant, was carrying forged papers and was driving a stolen jeep. (Every bit of that was true.) They said they would take care of him._

_I almost felt sorry for Hitalski. Almost. Until I remembered how many times I've hidden in the latrine, trying to avoid him._

_While we were in my office, Sarabeth and Major Winchester came in. They both looked angry. I heard him say something about "…throwing yourself at him". Sarabeth answered, "Major, you're just lucky that MacAllisters stand by their friends…even when they don't deserve it!" She stalked out and slammed the door without another word. _

_That's the company phone. I have to go. Love you, Ma. _

_Your son, **Sergeant** Max Klinger _

_(That does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?)_


	37. 37

THIRTY SEVEN

* * *

Feb. 5th: 1730 hours

"Ladies and gentlemen...I give you the Army's newest Sergeant...Max Klinger," Colonel Potter lifted his glass in recognition of his company clerk's accomplishment.

Klinger smiled at the applause coming from those gathered around the table in the Officer's Club. All of the senior officers were present; except Major Winchester. He had declined to participate.

"Thank you. I'm really happy about this promotion." Laughing, the clerk added, "And, since I've said that, I _know_ I must be crazy!"

After the laughter died down, the colonel resumed his speech, "Incidentally, I talked to a checkpoint MP officer earlier today. It seems that our Corporal Hitalski decided to go AWOL."

"Hitalski?" Captain Pierce questioned with pretended innocence.

"You know him, Hawk. Big guy; works in the motor pool," Captain Hunnicutt contributed.

"Oh, yes; the one who likes to tip over jeeps."

"Can it, gents," The MASH commander ordered. "It also seems that Hitalski had travel orders and a jeep voucher---signed by me---clearing his way to Tokyo. He was _very_ insistent that his papers were legitimate. The only trouble is...I don't remember signing any of those papers."

Potter glared at his officers who squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. "Now, how do you suppose my signature got on those sheets?" He asked in the silence. "No answers for that one? Well, I have an easier question for you."

"Hitalski also claims that he has been promoted to Sergeant. And that's strange, too; especially since his name was not on the list when I posted it. How do you explain that? Lieutenant MacAllister, why don't _you_ answer that one?"

The nurse's expression was guarded, "Well, sir. Perhaps he misunderstood something that was said to him."

"That's an interesting conjecture, Lieutenant; especially since Hitalski is very insistent that _you_ were the one who first told him that he had been promoted."

"That is interesting, sir," she replied politely.

"Answer my question, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." MacAllister straightened in her chair, "Colonel Potter, I did tell Corporal Hitalski that he had been promoted to Sergeant."

"Why?" The officer demanded. "What in the name of Ezekial's mule were you doing? Don't you realize that you can be brought up on charges for that?"

"Um, Colonel," Hawkeye Pierce intervened, "if you're going to call Sarabeth on the carpet, you're going to have to make room on it for me, too."

"Better add me to your rug collection, too, sir," B J Hunnicutt spoke.

"Colonel, I'll have to take the blame, also," Max Klinger admitted.

"I must also confess my part in this action," Francis Mulcahy announced.

"I'm guilty, too, sir," Margaret Houlihan replied.

Potter surveyed his personnel, "So, that's the way it is, is it?"

Grinning in apology, the redheaded nurse commented, "You know, sir, one of the benefits of being a good commander, is having a staff that is willing to handle the little problems for you."

"And you consider a man who terrorizes an entire outfit a little problem?"

MacAllister's smile grew larger, "Yes, sir. I do."

The colonel nodded, "So do I. And I'm glad to know my staff can handle these little problems." He grinned at the relief he saw in their eyes. "However...if anyone ever pulls this kind of stunt again..." He didn't finish his statement. The medical personnel understood him, nevertheless.

Potter sampled his drink, "As a side note, whoever forged my signature needs to forget he---or she---_ever_ learned that trick."

"Forgotten, sir," echoed the replies from around the table.

* * *

For the first time in three days, B J and Hawkeye were happy. And, for the first time since the memorial service for the Korean family, they were only slightly tipsy, not completely inebriated. Opening the door to the Swamp, Pierce was saying, "Did you see his face when Sarabeth batted her eyes at him and offered to buy him a beer?"

"That was great," Hunnicutt agreed.

"Great? That was terrific! She would win a Best Supporting Actress award for sure," Hawkeye declared and added, modestly, "Of course, I would win Best Actor."

Smiling, B J retorted, "In a cameo role, maybe. Klinger's got my vote for Leading Man."

Hawkeye grinned, "He'd win by a nose."

Charles Winchester, who had been listening to their conversation, interrupted them by asking, "Gentlemen, am I to understand that all of this morning's activities were a charade? Including MacAllister's disgraceful behavior?"

Captain Hunnicutt looked at the man in astonishment, "Of course it was all staged, Charles. You don't really think Sarabeth was interested in Hitalski, do you?"

"He does." Hawkeye Pierce began to laugh, "He thinks she…and Hitalski..." The surgeon was laughing too hard to continue. "This is great!" He managed to gasp out before dropping onto his cot in drunken amusement.

Major Winchester reached for his jacket without a word. As he was leaving his quarters, B J Hunnicutt asked where he was going. The senior officer replied, "To correct an error."

* * *

Sarabeth MacAllister glared at the man who was standing outside her tent, "Is this visit medically related, sir?"

"No," the doctor admitted. He was surprised to find the door closed in his face. "I thought I was always welcome at the MacAllister ranch house," He called through the barrier.

The door opened. Angrily, the red-haired nurse replied, "Skunks are never welcome."

Before she could shut the door again, Winchester caught it by the edge, "I want to talk to you."

"About what? You've already accused me of cavorting with Mitch and insisted that I threw myself at Hitalski; so now what? Have you convinced yourself that I had a fling with Colonel Flagg, too?"

Hearing her hostility, the small dog at her feet growled. With stiff legs and hackles raised, he advanced towards the man. The woman swept the animal up into her arms. "Don't bite him, Ernie," she advised. "You'll get rabies."

The Texan had a fierce look for the surgeon, "Major Winchester, to use one of my back-water, country-bumpkin expressions…git!"

"Wait, I'm trying to…" as the door slammed in his face a final time and he heard the click of the latch, he whispered, "…apologize."


	38. 38

THIRTY EIGHT

* * *

Feb. 7th: 1630 hours

Flying overhead, Captain Fannin MacAllister approached the 4077th hospital unit. Down below, he could see a litter jeep being unloaded in the compound. Even though radio chatter indicated that no other choppers were arriving with wounded, he set his own helicopter down in a nearby field.

Colonel Potter, wearing blood stained surgical scrubs and a weary expression, was working triage as the pilot approached. "MacAllister, any thing I need to know about?" He questioned.

"No, sir," the captain replied.

Nodding, the surgeon completed his instructions for treatment and headed back towards the operating area.

The newest arrival grabbed one end of a stretcher and helped to carry the injured soldier inside the surgical preparation area.

* * *

"Damn it! When do I get to see a doctor?! My ankle is killing me!" An Army officer was complaining to the nurse who was working in the crowded pre-op room.

The woman, who was taking a blood pressure reading, looked up from her patient. "It may be a while, sir. They're busy in the operating room right now," she drawled as she wrote the information on her chart. "Someone will take care of you as soon as they can. In the meantime, try not to move around so much."

She smiled at the man who helped place a laden stretcher on an empty table, "Howdy, big brother. Being a beast of burden, I see."

"Pilot, messenger, stretcher bearer, that's me," he answered with a grin. "Need any help?"

His sister nodded, "Just a minute. Hounder," she spoke to a waiting medic, "this one needs to go to x-ray...full chest and lateral. And then bring another ice pack for the colonel's ankle."

"Wait just a god-damned minute! Didn't you hear me? Damn it, nurse! I'm ordering you to get me a damned doctor. My ankle really hurts!"

"Believe me, sir, I _know_ how much an ankle can hurt," Sarabeth MacAllister answered politely. She had already moved to another table. Speaking to another corpsman, she said, "This one's next for x-ray...both legs." The woman smiled at the soldier looking up at her fearfully, "Don't worry, Private. You're going to be all right."

"Damn it! I want to see a doctor. NOW!" The military man shouted.

"Sorry, sir; that's just not possible," the nurse glanced at her brother and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You want me to plug up that dam?" He offered in a low voice.

Sarabeth shook her head, "Why be thrown into the stockade for a minor irritant like him?"

"Well, at least the colonel's not a _major_ irritant," Captain MacAllister quipped.

Lieutenant MacAllister snickered. "Brother mine, you're wonderful!" She exclaimed and then added more seriously, "I need someone to collect and secure weapons and personal property. That's supposed to be Klinger's job but he's working fast and furious in the x-ray lab."

"You do look funny with a stethoscope around your neck and that ammo belt slung across your shoulder. A real Pancho _Vivian,_" the older Texan replied.

"And everyone thinks my puns are bad." The woman handed a clipboard and her keys to her sibling, "The bins are in the storeroom. Make sure you write everything down...including descriptions and serial numbers."

"I reckon I can handle that," the man answered. He lifted the heavy belt from her shoulder. "I'll start with this one, little sister."

The colonel was shouting again, "I demand to see a doctor! _Immediately_, damn it!"

"And you'll see one, sir," the nurse replied. "Around here, however, those who are the most seriously wounded are the ones who get treated first." Examining her next patient, she called out, "I need some more pressure bandages here..."

* * *

"Colonel Potter, there's some officer out there in pre-op who's really giving Lieutenant MacAllister a hard time," Igor Stimenski reported as he helped carry another litter to an operating table. "He keeps demanding that he see a doctor, immediately."

"What are his injuries?" Potter asked. He was concentrating on his sutures.

"Only a broken ankle."

"Well, we better see him right away," the Chief Surgeon remarked. "His injury certainly takes priority over _my_ patient's injuries. This kid only has several pieces of shrapnel around his heart."

"Can you send someone out to talk to him, sir?" The man asked. "He's threatening to court-martial the lieutenant because she won't bring a doctor in to examine him."

"Hell's Bells! As if we didn't have enough trouble," the commanding officer muttered. "Anyone free to examine him?" He asked the other surgeons. Hearing their negative replies, Potter turned to the priest who was delivering the latest batch of x-rays, "Padre, see if you can soothe the savage beast out there."

"And if that doesn't work...you can always give him the sermon about the jawbone of an ass," Hunnicutt suggested.

"Better yet...hit him with it," Pierce added as the priest headed for the OR doors.

* * *

"Hello, Colonel. I'm Father Mulcahy. I understand you've hurt your ankle. Perhaps you'd like to talk with me while you're waiting."

"I'm tired of waiting. And, I don't need a priest! I need a doctor..." the complaints continued.

* * *

"All weapons secured. All personal belongings accounted for," Fannin MacAllister reported. He returned the keys to the nurse who gave him a tired smile.

"Thanks." She was helping the injured officer into a wheel chair, "Your turn, sir. Starr," she spoke to the enlisted man who was going to transport the colonel, "tell Klinger I need x-rays, right ankle…with the results as soon as possible," she added to forestall any arguments from the senior officer.

As the man was wheeled out of the room, Sarabeth gave a sigh of relief and turned to smile at her brother, "What brings you here?"

"Crockett needs to talk to you but he's…busy; so he sent me, instead. Let's sit down and I'll tell you about it."

"I reckon I can sit for a few minutes," the woman replied. She checked on each of her patients before moving to a nearby bench. Smiling as he brought over a stool for her feet, she said, "You are a very good brother, you know that?"

"I know," Fannin concurred as he sat on the bench beside her. "I have resisted showing that..._officer_...who's certainly _not_ a gentleman...what real pain is."

"Keep resisting," Sarabeth urged. She leaned against her sibling, closed her eyes, and yawned, "Brother mine, don't you _dare_ let me go to sleep!"

"I won't. Why are you in pre-op?" her brother replied. "I was expecting Kellye to be here."

"That's my fault. Right now, Major Winchester is being a genuine jackass so I requested not to be assigned to his table. But, since Major Houlihan is still kinda mad at me, she removed me from the surgery schedule entirely for this session."

"Crockett's sorry about that. He didn't really expect you'd get into that much trouble."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if Parnelli had kept her big mouth shut," the woman explained.

With a grin, the man asked, "What me to throw a loop over her so you can stomp her?"

"Nope," she grinned in return. "I have something much better planned."

Her brother liked her mischievous expression, "What do you have in mind, little sister?"

"You remember those stories that Great-Great Uncle Clayton used to tell us about the Comanches; especially the ones where they'd stake someone to an ant bed and then smear honey on them?"

Fannin nodded, "I remember those."

"Well, before you leave, stop over in post-op and tell Parnelli about them. Feel free to embellish on that particular tale."

"I'll also tell her that you asked me to fly over the area and find a large ant hill. And I'll have Klinger mention that you put in a weird requisition for a gallon of honey."

Sarabeth laughed, "I like the way you think, brother mine."

* * *

The Texan read the note that her brother handed to her. Translated, the message said: '_all tucked in safely'_. "I'm glad that's confirmed," she admitted in a whisper. "That was some pretty convincing evidence."

The older MacAllister shrugged and whispered in return, "It had to be convincing. They're only going to stay safe if everyone thinks they're dead."

"I know. But, some of the people here are really taking it hard; especially B J. I just wish…." Sarabeth didn't finish her thought. "What else did Crockett want to talk about?"

"Our big brother wants to know exactly what Colonel Flagg said, and did, when he was alone with you."

"He was ranting and rambling and wasn't making much sense," the woman began her explanation. "He kept muttering about Kunsan…and being laughed at…and his last chance…and that he had to get him…but his bait had disappeared…that kind of thing. He looked so despondent that I was almost feeling sorry for him; until he grabbed me by my shoulders, shoved me against a shelf and demanded that I tell him everything I knew about their escape."

Seeing the sudden flash of anger in her sibling's eyes, Sarabeth said, "He wasn't really hurting me, Fannin. He was just trying to scare me."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I didn't know what he was talking about. And that he had best let go of me because he was fixin' to regret it. Then he said, '_I can snap your neck with one hand_.' And I told him that I could shove his nose into his brain with one hand. And did he care for a demonstration?"

"Since he still wasn't letting go of me, I raked my boot down his shin and stomped, hard, on his instep. I expected him to be angry. But, he just stared at me for a few moments and then limped out."

Fannin MacAllister was still furious, "I reckon Crockett and I are going to have a little _talk_ with Colonel Flagg."

"Leave it be, big brother. He wasn't interested in me; he just wanted information."

"Doesn't matter," the older Texan snarled. He would have said more except that they could hear the commotion in the hallway.

"Oh good, Colonel Complainer is returning," Sarabeth remarked. She stood and smiled at her brother, "Time to go back to work."

* * *

The nurse helped the older officer out of his wheel chair and back onto his table, "There you go, sir. I'll get you a fresh ice pack. And, as soon as those films are developed…."

"I'm tired of waiting," the man interrupted. "Get me a doctor, now!!"

"Someone will be here as soon as they can," she tried to assure him.

"I said now, Lieutenant!"

"Lieutenant MacAllister," Major Winchester's voice was heard behind them. He walked towards the pair, "I am here to examine the colonel with the injured ankle."

"Well, it's about damned time!" The combat officer announced angrily. "Do you know how long I've been sitting on this damn table waiting?"

"Probably almost as long as I have been _standing_ at one," the surgeon replied dryly as he read the man's medical chart. "Lieutenant, bring me an otoscope, a penlight and some tongue depressors."

"Right away, sir," raising a quizzical eyebrow at the unusual request, the pre-op nurse brought the requested equipment.

"Thank you." Methodically, Winchester checked the man's ears, nose and throat. "Hm-m-m," he said in a pensive tone, "just as I suspected."

"What's the matter? Why are you checking my throat? It's my ankle that's broken."

"Yes, I am aware of that. However, Colonel, you also have an advanced case of...proctalgia," the surgeon pronounced.

"Proctalgia? What the hell is that?"

Major Winchester looked at the red-haired Texas nurse who was experiencing a sudden fit of coughing. "Lieutenant, I believe you need some fresh air. Corporal," the doctor motioned to a corpsman, "you are in charge in here for a few minutes." He escorted the woman outside.

"Wait a minute! Where are you going? What the hell's proctalgia? And what about my ankle?..."

* * *

Outside the building, Lieutenant MacAllister was still having trouble breathing. It was only because she was laughing so hard, however. "Proctalgia?" She questioned in delight.

"You doubt that he has that problem?" Major Winchester asked.

"Oh, I don't doubt that at all! My only concern is what I tell him when he asks how we treat it."

The man shrugged and said, nonchalantly, "Simply tell him we start with an enema. And that it is all _downhill_ from there."

"Oh, that's awful!" Laughing, Sarabeth suddenly remembered that she was still mad at the major. "You're probably needed in the OR, sir," she remarked, stiffly.

"What I need, is to talk to you after this session, Lieutenant." Seeing her stubborn expression, he added, "Please?"

"That's not a word I hear from you very often."

Charles Winchester sighed, "No, regrettably. However, I must talk to you."

Sarabeth MacAllister answered, "I tried talking to you; but you refused to listen."

"I am trying to talk to you, now," he persisted.

"But, now, I'm the one refusing to listen, aren't I?" the woman asked. With a sigh, she agreed, "All right, Major, after this session, we'll talk."

At the two turned to enter the building, Fannin MacAllister walked outside. "Everything all right?" He asked his sister, pointedly. At her nod, he remarked, "Your impatient patient is now demanding that his ankle _and_ his proctalgia be treated...immediately."

"Naturally," Doctor Winchester replied, "However, both of his ailments will have to wait. It is time for me to return to the OR."

* * *

After the surgeon left, the older Texan stared at his sister. She arched an eyebrow at him in silent reply. Knowing she wasn't going to answer his unasked questions, the man informed her, "Well, sister mine, if you don't need me any longer, I reckon I'd best be on my way."

"I'm _always_ going to need you, big brother!" Sarabeth replied and gave him a hug, "But, as far as needing your help here, I reckon we can do without you...for a while, anyway. Don't forget to stop by and say hello to Parnelli."

"I won't." Her brother asked, "Before I go, do you have a medical dictionary handy?"

"There's one on my bookshelf at the ranch house. Why?" She asked with feigned innocence.

Fannin MacAllister grinned, "There's a word I want to look up. I reckon I might like the definition."

"I reckon you might," his sister agreed.


	39. 39

THIRTY NINE

* * *

True to his word, Fannin MacAllister visited with the nurse in the first recovery ward. Surprised that he had sought her out, Monica Parnelli was soon chatting eagerly with the pilot. When his topic shifted to grisly methods of historic torture, she listened in horrified fascination. She shuddered when he finished his tale by saying: "A _strong_ man could last for days being staked out like that. But, if he was a _lucky_ man, he'd be dead long before the ants were through with him."

Suddenly, MacAllister looked at his watch, "I've got to go. It'll be dark soon. And my little sister wants me to fly around and locate the largest ant bed near this camp." Acting as if he realized that he had made a mistake, he added quickly, "She's…uh… she's working on a special report…for Colonel Potter. Anyway, nice talking to you, Lieutenant."

As he hurried out the of the hospital building, the Texan smiled to himself. Setting that up had been as easy as throwing a two-day old calf. Now, to find Sergeant Klinger….

* * *

Captain MacAllister also took the time to speak with the nurse in the second post-op tent. His conversation with Sherry Riggs was less gruesome and produced more smiles. He would have liked to stay longer; however, it was getting late and he did have to report back to his older brother. The two of them were definitely going to have a little _talk_ with a certain CID officer.

Stealing a kiss, the pilot said good bye to the woman. As he opened the door, he added, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Tell Kellye there's a letter from Crockett in Sarabeth's quarters."

* * *

Inside his sister's tent, MacAllister replaced the medical dictionary on the shelf. He was right, he did like that definition. Winchester had some wit about him he'd grant him that. But, for an intelligent man, he sure showed signs of stupidity.

Even believing only a tenth of what Parnelli had told him, he'd have to find the time to have a _talk_ to a certain Yankee doctor, as well as to a certain Australian soldier. He had been looking out for his little sister all of her life. He wasn't about to stop now.

* * *

Feb. 8th: 1330 hours

The operating room was finally shut down. What had begun as a trickle of injuries yesterday in the early morning hours; had turned into a steady stream by that afternoon; and had become a torrent that evening. Everyone had worked through the night trying to take care of all the wounded men who had been brought to their medical unit.

And now, the last of the soldiers with minor injuries had been loaded on ambulance buses and had been sent to the Evac. Hospitals to recover. The only patients remaining were those who were in critical condition and could not be moved. The main hospital and the VIP tent were completely filled up with these unfortunate ones.

Except for the nurses on duty in the two wards, and the men on guard duty, the entire camp was on "stand down" orders. Grateful for the chance to rest, everyone had headed for their quarters to collapse on their cots; eager to get some sleep before the next batch of ambulances began to arrive.

And arrive they would. The rumors were already circulating: that the Chinese general who had been responsible for all the carnage last month had returned; and that he was rapidly reclaiming his title as "the butcher". All knew their reprieve would not last long.

Nurses Riggs and Parnelli were inside their tent, slowly pealing off their blood-stained uniforms. Expecting to continue their ward duties while everyone else slept, they were surprised, and pleased, when the head nurse and her second-in-command, took over their shifts. That is, Sherry Riggs was happy. Monica Parnelli was complaining that MacAllister should have been relieved her earlier.

Trying to keep her voice down to keep from waking their other tent mate, Lieutenant Riggs replied, "She did have to attend a senior staff meeting first, you know." With a sudden frown, the woman swiftly moved her foot and crushed something underneath her boot. She made the same stomping motion again a few moments later.

"What are you doing?" Lieutenant Parnelli asked.

"Killing ants," the other nurse answered. Looking around at the floor, she added, "They seem to be everywhere."

"_Ants_?!" Monica Parnelli exclaimed. She hastily pulled back the blanket on her cot.

Climbing into her own bed, Sherry tried hard not to smile as she watched the other woman shove her bedding aside to examine her mattress and framework for stinging insects. She was glad Fannin had told her about the joke. If she wasn't so tired, she'd torment Parnelli some more. As soon as she closed her eyes, however, she was asleep.

* * *

Major Winchester was tired and foot sore. Actually, he was far beyond tiredness, exhaustion or fatigue. And his wretched knee had given out on him when he had tried to stand after the colonel's brief staff meeting. Trying to ignore the pain, he was annoyed, when Hawkeye Pierce, acting as Chief Surgeon, had called for a wheelchair to take him to the Swamp and had prescribed a painkiller for him.

The other two surgeons who shared his tent were already asleep. While waiting for the palliative to take affect, Winchester started a letter to his sister:

_My dear Honoria,_

_I was elated to have received your latest recording. I have listened to it twice already; and, I intend to listen to your delightful voice again soon. I need to be reminded that culture, and grace, and civilization, still exists beyond these canvas walls._

_We have been very busy here. According to Colonel Potter, we can expect more of the same. While I am able to perform surgical magic over here, I would prefer not to have so many patients with so many life threatening injuries arrive at the same time._

_I have not had the opportunity to speak to Sarabeth. I did manage to make her laugh, however. She was supposed to be assisting at my table during the OR session; instead, Margaret assigned her to the preparation area. There, an odious officer, with a broken ankle, was making everyone miserable with his whining and complaining. _

_After I had completed the procedure on the soldier I was working on, I left the operating room to examine this officer. In addition to his ankle, I made the diagnosis of proctalgia. That's a medical term that means, as the colonel would so quaintly put it:_ 'a pain in the old caboose'; _except, in this case, only the people around him were affected by his disease._

_Sarabeth was trying to hide her laughter behind a fake cough but I could see the merriment in her eyes. I would have liked to talk to her at that point; however, I had other men, with more serious injuries, to treat. When I am not completely exhausted, I will take the time to speak to her. _

_Speaking of spending time with someone; I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the Founder's Day Dance. Your new dress sounds dazzling. And, I trust Roger Barrington behaved like a proper gentlemen while he was dancing with the prettiest lady in all of Massachusetts. _

_Roger is a decent, likable man. And, the Barringtons are an old, established family in Boston; almost as well known as the Winchesters or the Emersons. Nevertheless, I will have a long talk with that young man. Big brothers are very particular about the men who want to associate with their little sisters, you know._

With a yawn, the surgeon set aside his letter to finish later. The analgesics were taking effect. Sleepily, he settled into his bed. He wondered how long it would be before the first ambulance arrived.


	40. 40

FORTY

* * *

Feb. 13th: 0700 hours 

"Here are the duty logs for the last two weeks, Lieutenant." Sergeant Klinger reported as he entered the medical storeroom. He had already had a hectic morning; what with the preparations for the Valentine's Day dance, the usual pleadings for needed supplies, and the call from Colonel Blankenship announcing her imminent arrival.

MacAllister looked up from her desk and smiled at him, "Thanks, Sergeant. Just set them down on that box. I'll get to them in a minute."

"The paper work never ends, does it?" The clerk observed with a grin. "I bet that long after the war is over, we'll still be working to meet some Army report deadline even though we'll be civilians by then."

Laughing, Sarabeth agreed, "More than likely." With a smile, she changed the subject, "Max, I hear you're taking bets for a baby pool."

"I am," the man acknowledged. "Want to get in on it?" He added with a grin, "I'm also taking bets as to when Captain Hunnicutt's enormous sized feet are going to touch the ground again. I don't think I've ever seen him this happy."

"B J needed some good news, for a change," the Texan agreed. "Are you going to be able to find the material for the baby quilt?"

"I sent that telegram to your mother asking her to send some right away. But, there's a Korean trader who says he might be able to get some sooner. Hopefully, we'll have something here before this one graduates from college."

"We'll have this quilt finished in no time," the woman answered. "Don't forget you agreed to draw a picture for the front panel."

"I'm not much of an artist, Sarabeth; but, I'll try."

"Whatever you come up with, B J and Peg are going to love it!" She assured him.

"Well, guess I better go." About to leave, the company clerk turned back to the nurse, "Before I forget, Colonel Blankenship called. She wanted to speak to Major Houlihan; but, I told her that the major had flown over to talk to the head nurse of the 8063rd. And, when I told her that you were working on the personnel workloads that she had requested, she just said to tell both of you that she was coming here the day after tomorrow."

"The day after tomorrow?" MacAllister repeated with a frown.

"That's better than coming tomorrow, right?" The sergeant asked in concern. "She'd probably want to cancel the party."

It's just that…Major Hodges was coming here on the 15th," the nurse replied. "He and Major Houlihan were going to spend their leave time together in Seoul. I don't reckon either one of them is going to be happy to hear that bit of news," she commented.

"Oh. _Oh_!" The Toledo resident suddenly realized what she was saying. "The Spam's going to hit the fan when Major Houlihan finds that out!" Klinger looked at the woman, "Um, Lieutenant; you are going to deliver that message to her, aren't you?" He asked hopefully.

Sarabeth grinned, "Sure. But maybe we can finagle something---to keep the Spam out of the fan."


	41. 41

FORTY ONE

* * *

Feb. 13th: 1300 hours

The personnel at the 4077th MASH hospital were not very happy this afternoon. Tired after another OR session, everyone had anticipated a few hours of rest before the next batch of injured soldiers were brought in. Instead, all of the nurses, the medics, the enlisted men and the Korean helpers found themselves in the middle of a massive cleaning, disinfecting and organizing frenzy.

Monica Parnelli was not the only one complaining about this sudden change of plans. However, as Lieutenant MacAllister pointed out, if they got everything inspection-ready by today, Major Houlihan might agree to let them have their Valentine's Day party the next day. Grudgingly, they had complied.

Even the Swamp surgeons had been given some very strong suggestions to straighten up their living quarters. Major Winchester watched in amusement as Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt sorted through piles of clothes and other belongings in an unsuccessful attempt to regain some control over their surroundings. His side of the tent, of course, was already cleaned and organized.

The man from Massachusetts was relaxing on his bunk. "Pierce," he gestured with the hand that held his brandy snifter, "make certain you hide those disgusting nudist magazines in a better location, this time."

"I can't believe she looked under my mattress," the other New Englander muttered. "My dad never looked there. Why would she?"

"Colonel Blankenship obviously leaves no bed unturned," B J Hunnicutt replied, "and wants no artwork on display." Reluctantly, he was removing his daughter's scribbles that were hanging from the string that he had attached above his bed.

"And Pierce, don't forget to do something about that alcoholic apparatus of yours," Winchester added. He was enjoying this show.

"No," Hawkeye declared in sudden defiance. "I will hide my olive drab skivvies and my beach bathing beauties; but I will NOT remove my still. That fluid is nectar from the gods and my most cherished possession. I am not going to dismantle it!" With that statement, the surgeon grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door.

"Hawk, where are you going?" Hunnicutt asked.

"I'm going to tell Sarabeth to forget it! There are some things that human beings are not supposed to do…and moving this still…just to please some visiting busy-body colonel…is one of them."

"You're going to tell that to Lieutenant MacAllister?" The senior officer questioned with interest, "The same Lieutenant MacAllister who threatened to take a broom to you this morning if you didn't clean up the Swamp?"

"Yes," Pierce replied as he left the tent.

B J Hunnicutt and Charles Winchester looked at each other in amazement. "This I've got to see," the man from California announced as he reached for his own jacket.

"Agreed."

* * *

"…You do realize, don't you," Sarabeth MacAllister asked, "that this inspection is very important to Major Houlihan? And that the Valentine's Day party may be cancelled because of your decision?"

"Some times you have to stand up for what's right," Captain Pierce replied nobly.

The second-in-command nurse arched an eyebrow at the physician with muddy feet who was standing in the area she had just mopped. Setting her cleaning utensil against the wall, she walked over to him. "Hawkeye, you know I think of you as a big brother, right?" She smiled sweetly and clasped his hands.

Doctors Hunnicutt and Winchester, both having some experience with younger sisters, eyed her warily.

"And so, big brother," she continued, "your determination to stand up for your principles is admirable." While she was speaking, the woman began making the man more presentable.

"Adorable." She buttoned his shirt. "Affable." She straightened his collar. "Altruistic." She brushed lint from a sleeve.

"And," MacAllister captured his hands again, "positively amazing. Tell me, brother mine, do you have an affinity for your shin bone?"

"My shin bone?" He asked in confusion. He hadn't followed her transition.

"Yes, your shin bone." Still smiling sweetly, Sarabeth kicked the man to remind him of its location.

"Aha." Pierce tried to pull away from her grasp. "That shin bone. Hey, Beej, I think it's time to go. We have a still to dismantle."

Hunnicutt was grinning, "I'm ready and willing."

"I just hope I'm able," Pierce muttered. He rubbed his lower leg and then smiled. He noted, "A simple 'get back to work' would have been sufficient."

"But this approach is far more amusing," Charles Winchester replied. With a nod for the redheaded woman, he added, "Not to give you the _brush_ off, my dear; however, I simply must supervise their dismal cleaning efforts. Incidentally, thank you for the wonderful entertainment. It was a _sweeping_ success."

As three doctors, one with a slight limp, left the building, the nurse smiled and reached for her mop.

* * *

Sergeant Max Klinger was pacing nervously as he waited for the approaching helicopter. He pulled his coat closer around his body and practiced what he was going to say. It wasn't the cold weather, or the threat of snipers, that made him nervous. He was afraid Major Houlihan was not going to be very happy when he gave her the news. And it was always better to be a good distance away from the head nurse when she was angry.

The company clerk waited until the pilot gave the 'all clear' signal. Bending low, he approached the aircraft, opened the door and helped the female officer to the ground. "Better hurry, Major," he informed her. "We've reports of a sniper in the area."

As soon as the woman was seated in the waiting jeep, Klinger climbed in on the driver's side and started back down the road towards the medical compound. As he drove, the man stated, "Colonel Potter said whatever report you needed to make to him could wait until after you talked to Lieutenant MacAllister. And she said she would come to your quarters in about fifteen minutes." Klinger stopped the vehicle close to the nurse's tent.

As Major Houlihan reached her door, he called out, "By the way, ma'am, Colonel Hodges won't be here the day after tomorrow. Lieutenant MacAllister said she would explain." Sergeant Klinger announced. Warily, he watched the blonde-haired nurse. For a brief moment only, her face showed disappointment.

"It doesn't matter, Sergeant. I have a hospital to run," the female officer said with fierce determination. It was only until she was alone in her tent that she vented her frustrations on the inanimate objects around her.

Outside her door, Max Klinger breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad he hadn't become the target of her fury.

* * *

When Lieutenant MacAllister knocked at her door, Major Houlihan was calmer. She did have a hospital to run. Besides, Army officers shouldn't expect to have a personal life.

Her second-in-command was carrying several folders, a pot of coffee and a container of brownies. She smiled at the head nurse, "How was everything at the 8063rd?"

* * *

"…I can't believe the nerve of that woman!!" Margaret Houlihan exclaimed. She reached for another chocolate morsel from the tin. The two nurses were sitting at her table as they discussed the major's trip. "Do you know what was so important that she had to speak to me…_in person_…even though we had barely finished another OR session?" The senior officer was indignant. "She wanted me to assign you to her unit so she could get her medical records in order!" The senior office was indignant. "We have the same number of nurses but _she_ claims she's too overwhelmed to keep track of the paperwork."

Houlihan continued, "Parker is sloppy in everything she does. How could she expect anyone to get her entire hospital inspection-ready by tomorrow?"

Resisting the urge to smile, MacAllister asked, "So she's having an inspection tomorrow?"

The head nurse of the 4077th nodded as she took a sip from her mug, "Colonel Blankenship is arriving there at 0800 hours. I hope she roasts her." Seeing the younger woman's eyebrow arch in surprise at her vindictiveness, the major added, "It would serve her right. Parker was one of several women who continued dating Donald after we were married."

"She does need to be marinated and turned on a spit," the Texan drawled. "But…Major Houlihan, I need to tell you…Colonel Blankenship will be here the day after that."

"What?!" Houlihan exclaimed in dismay and nearly dropped her coffee cup. "Then why are we sitting here? We've got the OR to clean. And then the post-op ward. And the…."

* * *

"…See, Major, it's all being taken care of," Lieutenant MacAllister commented, as she and the head nurse surveyed the preparations taking place around the medical unit. "As soon as I found out about the colonel's visit, I put everyone to work getting ready for her. Everything that was on her previous report is being addressed. The Swamp is being fumigated. I have already removed my Texas flag from the wall of my ranch house. Also, Baker has concealed that revealing picture of her husband. So now, let's discuss your rescheduled trip to Seoul…."

* * *

"…I still don't see why we have to arrange the surgical trays according to how Colonel Blankenship wants them," Lieutenant Parnelli was expressing her opinion. "That's not how Captain Pierce wants them. And you know how much, and how long, he complains if we hand him the wrong instrument."

"It's only temporary," Lieutenant Smith remarked. "Besides, this is easier than having to mop and then disinfect the OR."

"Well, if I were in charge, things would be different around here," the dark-haired woman declared.

"No doubt," her companion replied. With a malicious grin, she added, "Hey, did you hear Klinger this morning? He told Sarabeth that the honey she had requisitioned might be coming in on the next supply truck."

"Honey?" Monica Parnelli questioned quickly.

"Yeah, she ordered a whole gallon of it. I hope she will share some with us. I like honey on my toast. We'll have to be careful not to spill any, though. I understand it attracts ants," Sandra Smith watched the other woman shiver. Sherry had told her Fannin's Comanche tale and she intended to use every opportunity to make Parnelli squirm.


	42. 42

FORTY TWO

* * *

Feb. 13th: 1700 hours

Captain Fannin MacAllister was in a good mood this afternoon. He had easily dispatched the sniper who had been setting up shop on the hillside above the 4077th hospital compound. The Chinese soldier had been left gagged and hogtied for the next patrol to pick up. He was also left with the certain knowledge that the _fire-haired _demons were still hunting General Zheng He.

Still unseen by the sentries, MacAllister slowly made his way towards the camp. When he had been here last time, he had been furious at Flagg for manhandling his sister. He had seen the rage flash in his older brother's eyes, as well, when he told him of Sarabeth's mistreatment.

"Let's go get him," Fannin had urged. "We can stomp him so hard, they'll need a spoon to scrape him off the ground." To his surprise, however, his oldest brother hadn't immediately set out after the CID officer.

Crockett MacAllister had stated, "I'll talk to him…alone."

"Alone? There's no way I'm going to let you have all the fun, big brother!" The pilot had protested. But the ranking officer had been adamant. He was going to have a _little talk_ with Flagg…Colonel to Colonel…without any witnesses.

"Now that's more like it," the younger Texan had replied. "Hit him a few times for me." Changing topics, the man had then asked, "What are we going to about Cochlan?"

MacAllister was surprised, again, to discover that his older brother had no intentions of going after the Australian soldier, either.

"I've already talked to him. He knows how he's supposed to behave around her," the older man had replied.

"Well, if you won't go after him, I will!" The younger one had declared.

"I realize it's difficult for you…being so _hot headed_ and all…but…try to think, little brother!" Crockett had admonished. "We've all taught her how to protect herself. Do you honestly believe the moment he does something that she doesn't want him to do, that she won't be onto him--quicker than a duck on a June bug?"

Reluctantly, Fannin MacAllister had had to admit his brother was right, "If he tried something, I reckon he'd be picking his teeth off of the ground."

"That's for sure and for certain," Colonel MacAllister had replied. "Besides, Cochlan isn't as much of a problem for her as…others….who like to talk too much." He picked up some papers on his desk to read. Not glancing at his brother, the man had stated, "Tom Buchanan is still assigned to Cochlan's outfit."

"So?" Fannin had asked.

"So, they're not far from here. And, I understand Buchanan likes to carve wooden animals…mammals, fish, birds…," looking up to catch his younger brother's attention, he had added, with a grin, "…insects."

The other Texan had returned his grin, "I reckon I need to go see him."

"I won't be needing a helicopter or a helicopter pilot for a couple of days," the colonel had observed as he turned his attention again to the papers on his desk.

* * *

After Fannin MacAllister had left, his older brother had sighed in relief. He had managed to sidetrack his younger sibling. Hopefully, the pilot would cool down before he encountered Colonel Flagg again. The commander, however, wasn't so certain of his own temper, however.

Crockett hadn't known how much longer he could have maintained his calm facade in front of his brother. He was definitely going to have a _long talk_ with Colonel Flagg.

* * *

Captain MacAllister had located the Australian outfit the next day. They had been pinned down by some riflemen. Using his helicopter to spot the enemy soldiers hiding in the brush, he had radioed their positions to the men below. His aircraft had also drawn the opposing fire away from the trapped soldiers as he hovered above the action.

When the short battle had ended, MacAllister had landed the helicopter and was examining the new bullet holes when Mitch Cochlan walked up to him with a grateful smile. "Thanks, cobber," the Australian remarked. "What brings you out to the bush?"

"Stay away from my sister," the Texan had stated without any friendliness in his drawl.

Stiffly, Lieutenant Cochlan had replied, "As I told the colonel, only the lady can make that decision."

"Just make sure you listen to her." Fannin had grinned at the other man and then offered, "And try not to get her in so much trouble with Houlihan."

"Parnelli, that loud mouth Shelia is at it again?" The soldier had asked.

"How'd you like to get even with her?" The pilot had countered. At the lieutenant's confirmatory reply, he then asked, "Where's Buchanan?"

* * *

Yesterday, Cochlan had radioed MacAllister that his package was ready. This morning, the pilot had picked up that package; leaving a couple of bottles of homemade wine in exchange. And, since his special supply requisition had also come in, he was now ready to complete his plan.

His little sister might be content to merely hint at retaliation. But he was ready to show a certain Lieutenant Parnelli that MacAllisters took care of their own.

* * *

Fannin had called ahead, asking the MASH company clerk to secretly notify Sherry Riggs to meet him outside her tent. Furtively looking around to avoid being spotted, the two slipped inside and began their preparations. "Are you sure y'all won't be needing this IV bottle?" The man asked.

The nurse shook her head. "It has a crack near the top," she stated. "We're going to discard it, anyway."

After hanging the bottle high above the bunk of one of the occupants, the two conspirators examined their handiwork. Satisfied that the container was hidden from view and that the drip line worked, MacAllister grinned. "If this doesn't break her from sucking eggs, I don't know what will." Handing a small bag to the woman, he said, "Here's your critters. Don't forget to let me know how it works."

"Oh, don't worry. You'll probably be able to hear her miles away."

* * *

Before leaving the hospital compound, the Texan silently entered his sister's tent. He frowned at the bare walls. She had obviously packed away anything that could be considered non-military. Missing her cheerful decorations, he left a small carved likeness of a koala, from the Aussies, on her shelf and a colored rock, from him, on her bed. He also left her a couple of letters, one for her, and one for Kellye, that Crockett had wordlessly handed to him. Knowing she would discover the gifts before her inspection, Fannin left in contentment. He couldn't wait to hear the results of all this.

* * *

While discussing the change of plans concerning Colonel Hodges, Sarabeth MacAllister suddenly frowned. "Is something wrong?" Major Houlihan questioned.

The Texan stated, "Everything's fine. I just wonder…" With a shrug and a grin, she asked, "So, what are you going to wear?" MacAllister halfway listened to the other woman's reply. Klinger hadn't announced any visitors and she hadn't heard any helicopters arriving. Still, she _knew_ her brother was inside the camp. And any time that Fannin was this secretive, he was up to something. Thinking about the many times that particularly mischievous brother had hidden live animals under her bed sheets, she knew she was going to have to approach her cot with caution this evening.

* * *

Monica Parnelli woke from a puzzling dream. It had been raining…a sweet smelling rain…and that didn't make any sense. She heard a plop on the pillow beside her. 'Great, she thought, unhappily, 'it really is raining, and the tent is leaking, once again.' Looking up, the woman was hit on the forehead with a rain drop. But, it didn't really feel like water…and it smelled…sweet!

Turning her head to the side, she realized her pillow was soaked. And what was that thing sitting beside her? Her eyes focused on the object. An ant… a large ant…and she was drenched, not in water, but honey! With a shriek, Parnelli knocked the insect away. She noticed more of the animals on her bedding. Jumping up, now shouting in fear, the woman began swatting and stepping on all of the creatures she could see. "Look out! Ants! Ants!" She warned her tent mates.

Instead of reacting in fright, the other two nurses begin to giggle. Realizing that something was wrong, Monica gingerly inspected one of the insects. She grew livid as she saw that it was only a wooden carving. "I'm going to kill her!" The woman announced angrily.

"Wait," Sherry Riggs tried to explain between bouts of laughter, "Sarabeth didn't have anything… Fannin planned…."

Monica Parnelli didn't wait to hear her explanation, however. "She's going to regret this! And I know just how to do it." The nurse angrily stormed out of her quarters.


	43. 43

* * *

FORTY THREE

Feb. 13th: 2330 hours

Ignoring the standing order for an armed escort, Lieutenant Monica Parnelli marched across the compound. She brushed aside the trickles of honey that fell from her bangs. MacAllister was going to pay for this.

Swinging open the door to the command office, she stepped towards the man sleeping on the cot in the corner. "Klinger! Klinger! Wake up!" The nurse shouted at him and roughly grabbed his shoulder. "Get up, now!"

Sergeant Max Klinger groggily peered up at the woman standing over him. "What?" Blinking his eyes and staring at her face, he exclaimed, "Lieutenant, what happened to you?!"

The nurse, with sticky streaks on her cheeks and unruly spikes of sodden hair, kicked his cot. "Go get Potter and Mulcahy!" She ordered.

The company clerk was still confused, "Why? What's the matter?"

Jerking him out of his bed, Parnelli shoved the man towards the door. "Get Potter and Mulcahy!" She shrieked at him. "Get them. Now!"

As the bewildered clerk rushed outside, wearing nothing but his pajamas, the woman stopped her hysterics and reached for the phone set. She'd have to hurry to make this call.

A short time later, after replacing the headset, she could hear the sounds of rushing footsteps. She smiled to herself and began forcing the tears to flow.

* * *

"…It would be impossible for MacAllister to have set this stunt up, Parnelli," Major Houlihan announced. She and the redheaded Texan had been summoned to Colonel Potter's office. "She's been with me all evening. In fact, we only broke off our paperwork review a few minutes ago. She couldn't have done this."

"She did, too!" Lieutenant Parnelli asserted. She sobbed uncontrollably and hid her face in her hand. "She hates me! And she's always saying and doing mean things to me!"

"There, there, my child," Father Mulcahy tried to console the young woman. "I'm sure this is all just a misunderstanding."

"Monica," Sarabeth MacAllister spoke sympathetically, "I am truly sorry if you were scared by what was obviously a practical joke. But, I did not set this up," she stated earnestly. Even though her words were sincere, the corner of her mouth kept quivering every time she looked at the other nurse. Droplets of honey were still occasionally falling from her hair.

"I was not frightened!" The woman declared with anger. "And I want her punished for this!"

"As Major Houlihan noted, the lieutenant has an alibi," Colonel Potter observed. "Parnelli, you'll feel better after a hot shower. After you get finished, spend the rest of night in the VIP tent. I'm sure Klinger," the man raised his voice as he spoke the clerk's name, "is close by and will be glad to get that heater set up for you. Someone will change the sheets in your cot and clean up things for you in there."

Max Klinger, who had been listening at the door, straightened and entered the office. "You called, sir? He asked innocently as he tightened his robe around him. He tried not to look at Lieutenant Parnelli. He doubted that he could keep a straight face.

* * *

"…It was the funniest thing I've ever seen!" Sherry Riggs declared as she removed the IV bottle from the tent pole. "Monica was hopping around, slapping at everything and screeching in fear."

"It was pretty funny," Nurse Hernandez agreed.

"Sherry, Linda," Sarabeth cautioned softly, "if y'all know anything at all about this, you'd best keep it to yourself. Monica is out for blood. If she can't pin it on me, she'll find some one else to blame." The Texan was removing the soaked sheets from the cot. She noticed an object on the mattress. Casually slipping it in her pocket, MacAllister started scrubbing the stains. "And it won't take her long to think of the next likely suspects."

"It was still hilarious," Riggs stated. "But my lips are sealed." She couldn't help smiling, however.

* * *

After stopping by the laundry area to deliver her armload of sodden bedding, Lieutenant MacAllister, escorted by the camp guard, returned to her own quarters. Inside, Ernie greeted her with a happy wag of his tail. The woman reached down to pet the dog and then glanced at her bed. "So what do you think, pup?" She asked. "Is it safe to go near it?"

In reply, the animal jumped onto the cot, circled the blanket a few times, and settled down with a contented sigh. "I'll take that as a yes," MacAllister noted. She removed the object from her pocket and examined it closely.

With the right number of legs, antennae and body segments, it was an accurate rendition of a large ant…with the addition of a smile on its face. Turning it over, the nurse ran her fingers over the initials etched into the piece. They were the same initials carved into the koala figure that had been left on her shelf.

The laughter she had been suppressing erupted. "You done good, brother mine!" Sarabeth announced softly, enjoying the memory of Monica's newest hair style.

Later, still smiling in amusement, the woman carefully hid the carving beneath her clothing in her footlocker and locked the trunk.

* * *

Inside the VIP tent, after listening to Monica Parnelli's tale, Colonel Flagg shrugged and commented, "Interesting. I wonder if scorpions are also attracted to honey."

"What does it matter?" The woman replied. "I want to know what you're going to do about it!"

"What am _I_ going to do about it?" The man asked angrily. Responding to the nurse's urgent call, he had arrived at the compound and had crept into her temporary quarters a few moments earlier. "You pull me away from _the_ most important mission of my life, to tell me about some harmless prank?"

"Harmless? I could have died of fright. Not that _she_ would care. One--or both--of her brothers was involved in this! Don't you want to get back at them? For always getting in your way?" Monica protested. She had expected more support from the CID agent.

The soldier stared at the nurse. "I am trying to find a way to bring down one of the most dangerous men in Korea. And when I pull this off, I'll have my revenge. I'll have the last laugh. Every kid in America will know my name. There will be parades…receptions…political nominations…Senator…no…President…President Flagg," he nodded in satisfaction at his imagined successes. "Yes, I like the sound of that."

"But what about me?"

Grimly, the officer approached the woman. Grabbing one of her hands, he casually bent her little finger backwards. Monica Parnelli gasped in pain and tried to pull away, "Stop it!" She protested, "You're hurting me!"

Relentlessly, Flagg tightened his grip and replied, "You call me here for something as unimportant as this again and you won't find fake ants in your bed; you'll find a live grenade--minus the pin."

The colonel released the woman and she hastily moved out of his reach.

Before leaving, he added, "Find a way to get their sister away from this unit…without them knowing about it…and I can do something with that. I can definitely do something with that. Until then, don't call me again. Understand?"

* * *

Feb. 14th: 0700 hours

Captain Pierce was laughing by the time Sergeant Klinger finished his tale of the late night excitement. "That's great!" Hawkeye exclaimed. "I wish I could have seen her!" He was getting dressed beside the heater in the Swamp.

"It was funny," the company clerk admitted. "She looked like a baklava gone bad."

"Klinger, any idea who pulled this off?" B J Hunnicutt asked. He was also smiling.

"Well, Monica accused Sarabeth. But, Major Houlihan said she was with her the whole time. So…." The man shrugged.

"Let's go ask our resident Texan," Pierce decided. "I'm sure she knows who the genius is behind this _sweet_ treat."

As the two men reached for their jackets, Major Winchester also donned his coat. "I believe I will accompany you. I would like to hear more about this adventure, as well" he announced.

* * *

They found the woman in her office. The three men crowded into the medical storeroom to hear her version. "I understand Parnelli had a _honey_ of a time last night," Hawkeye spoke. "And her new hair style was very _bee-comb_ing."

"She must have been fr-_ant_-ic," B J added.

To their surprise, with only a slight grin for their puns, MacAllister shook her head. "Hawkeye, do me a favor. Please don't tease Monica about this."

"Why not? She certainly deserves it. And, this story deserves to be spread…or _dripped_ …from every lip," the doctor replied.

"I'm afraid she's going sabotage Colonel Blankenship's inspection," the Texan explained. "You _know _how important that this is for Major Houlihan."

"And, if Margaret's not happy…no one's happy." Captain Hunnicutt nodded in understanding. "Okay, we promise we'll leave Monica alone."

"Wait a minute. What's this 'we' stuff?" Captain Pierce protested.

"Please?" MacAllister asked.

"All right," the dark-haired surgeon agreed. "But, you have to tell me who planned this. He…or she…should get a medal."

"As I told the colonel, I don't know who did this. I have my suspicions…but suspicions aren't facts."

The man persisted, "So tell me who you think did it."

"Nope," the woman replied stubbornly. She added, "Hawkeye, spread the word. Make sure everyone else knows to leave her alone, too. Go do it now!" She directed. "Before anyone says anything to her."

"Okay. Okay. Don't get _ant_-sy," the doctor replied with a smile.

As the younger men left the small building, the older officer remained. "Lieutenant, may I stay awhile and talk to you?" Winchester asked.

"Sure, Major. Would you like some coffee?" The woman gestured for him to have a seat and reached for the nearby pot. Handing him a filled cup, she sat at her desk. "Something on your mind, sir?"

"I understand a _polecat _was skinned last night," the doctor commented. He watched the woman's expression as he nonchalantly took of a sip of the hot drink. "And her hide was nailed to the barn wall."

Sarabeth MacAllister raised an eyebrow at the man. Considering his words, she suddenly smiled. "She did get _skunked,_" the Texan admitted in amusement.

"I thought as much. Now that that is _bee_-hind us," the man said with a smile. He set his mug on the desk and stated, "I have an apology to deliver that is overdue."


	44. 44

FORTY FOUR

Feb 15th: 1500 hours

_Dear Mildred,_

_I apologize for not writing you sooner. As usual, there is always something going on around here that seems to require my attention_. _Yesterday, it was the trick that was played on Monica Parnelli. Today, it was the nursing inspection that involved the whole camp. _

_Colonel Blankenship's inspection actually went quite well. She didn't find any of the slip-ups that she had noted before. And she had glowing reports on both the upkeep of our medical records and one on Houlihan and MacAllister from all of the nurses. When she said that to me, I wanted to ask her: "_all of the nurses?_" because I doubted that Monica Parnelli would ever have any thing complimentary to say about either one of my charge nurses. However, I left it alone. If Blankenship is happy with the inspection, and Margaret is happy with the results, I'm happy, too._

_Getting back to our Lieutenant Parnelli: very late at night, she had poor Klinger drag Father Mulcahy and I out of our beds and hurry on over to my office. Inside, she was crying up a storm. And she looked a fright: honey was smeared all over her. Through her tears (crocodile tears, if you ask me), she told us that Sarabeth MacAllister had tried to kill her._

_After Houlihan and MacAllister arrived in my office, we got the story from Parnelli. Someone had rigged an IV, filled it with honey and let it drip onto her cot as she slept. They had also placed wooden ants all over the bed. I didn't understand the connection at the time but I could tell she was upset by them._

_Margaret provided an airtight alibi for Sarabeth so I couldn't set any punishment—even though Parnelli was demanding retribution. I tried to soothe things over—she seemed appeased but it's hard to tell. It was also hard for me to keep a straight face. The whole thing __was__ humorous._

_After everyone else was dismissed, I asked Lieutenant MacAllister what she knew about any of this. She explained about the history of Comanche torture techniques that were known to her family. But she insisted that this was intended only as a joke and no one ever planned to harm Parnelli. She also insisted she didn't _know_ who was responsible. _

_I have become accustomed to listening to the slight changes of emphasis in her drawl. __So I asked her if she had any _suspicions_ about who was responsible. She did admit to that but replied that suspicions were not facts and she couldn't say for sure and for certain who did it._

_I gave up at that point. If I had insisted, she probably still would not have told me. Remember when I wrote you that her brother Crockett was in the hospital here and that Colonel Flagg came after him? And that she and her other brother Fannin had formed a 'solid wall of MacAllisters' around Crockett to protect him from Flagg? She was giving me that same 'wall' in my office. The MacAllisters do believe in family loyalty. _

_I told her that such a thing had better not happen again and she assured me that it wouldn't. I let her go after that. And I enjoyed a good chuckle after she left. _

_The Valentine's Day Dance and January Birthday Party went well. Any time these people can get a chance to relax, I am grateful. Hawkeye Pierce had arranged for __the families of our birthday people to send a baby picture or a letter describing something funny that had occurred during their younger years._

_Jeanette Thompson was our first birthday celebrant. She was handed a photograph that made her smile before showing it to the rest of us. She explained that it was a picture of her and her two sisters making snow angels…without their coats…or gloves…or caps. And that all three had spent Christmas in bed with severe colds._

_Sarabeth had the next birth date. She examined the picture her mother has sent was of all seven kids. She said she was about three at the time and to just add a year to each brother as they went up the ladder. She listed their names, pausing sadly to gaze at her brother Bowie again, before handing out the picture._

_Pierce then read the letter from Corporal Stafford's mother. She said he was always a good boy but she never could keep him in his clothes; that he was always pulling them off and running around the neighborhood…naked. That brought in a big laugh. Red-faced, our very calm and usually staid medic squirmed in embarrassment. I heard him mutter, that he might just have to kill a certain captain. But MacAllister whispered to him to that __since that particular captain's birthday was still several months away, they'd have plenty of time to plan something spectacularly humiliating for him._

_Speaking of embarrassing photographs, my birthday is in March. S__o I'm asking you, dear girl...please, don't sent anything too personal for me. As commander of this medical mayhem, I do have to maintain some measure of dignified behavior._

_After the birthday cake was cut and everyone had eaten a piece, the dancing began. I was astonished to see that Hawkeye Pierce danced almost every dance with Monica Parnelli. She was looking pleased with all of the attention. Maybe that was why she didn't ruin Houlihan's inspection._

_Margaret is leaving in the morning for two days of R&R. Rumor has it that the colonel from the Corps of Engineers plans to join her there. I hope she has a good time._

_Klinger also has some leave time coming. I told him he could go to Tokyo for three days…ONLY if he can train one of the other medics to take over his duties as company clerk. He said he would get started right away…although he announced that he had his doubts that anyone could correctly fulfill his position._

_Anyway, that's all for now._

_I love you. Always._

_Sherm_


	45. Chapter 45

FORTY FIVE

* * *

Feb. 16th: 0800 hours

"…All right, Goldman. Let's go over this _one_ more time. When we have the OR running, what reports do we have to send to HQ...in addition to the daily reports?" Sergeant Klinger quizzed another medic.

"Well...the most important ones are the patient lists," the corpsman answered. "One for the military, with...five things, I think. Oh, I remember: with name, rank, outfit, country of origin and type of injury. And the one for the civilians has: name, village and injury."

"Right. And, if you have any POWs?" The sergeant prompted.

With a frown of concentration, Corporal Goldman answered, "Well, you have to notify the MPs and file a separate report."

"Okay. What else needs to be sent to HQ?"

Colonel Potter, sitting at his desk, was listening to the inquisition occurring in his outer office. Ever since yesterday afternoon, Klinger had been trying to teach Goldman the intricacies of his position.

"...No! That's not all!" The colonel heard his company clerk exclaim. "You've forgotten about the blood and plasma usage reports and the evac schedules. And, the...."

"Klinger!" The other man objected. "I can't remember all this. Besides, I'm supposed to go on duty now. How do you expect me to be a medic _and_ a clerk?"

"The same way I have to be both---every single day! Come on, Roy! You _have_ to learn this!!..."

Hearing the desperation in his company clerk's voice, the commanding officer smiled to himself. He had informed Klinger that he couldn't begin his R&R in Tokyo until he had trained a replacement. Obviously, the Toledo resident had taken his words to heart. He sounded close to panic.

Potter decided to let him off of the hook. In a few minutes, he'd have Klinger write a list of all the things that needed to be done to give to Goldman. After that, he could hitch a ride out on this afternoon's scheduled supply truck.

He knew his officers would help Corporal Goldman as much as they could. And, he would try to remember to have patience with his new company clerk.

The colonel doubted that Sergeant Klinger would be as reluctant to leave as Major Houlihan had been. She had stopped by his tent earlier this morning. She thought she shouldpostpone her trip to Seoul. With more wounded expected at any time, and now, with Sergeant Klinger leaving and Goldman having double assignments, she felt the outfit would be too short handed.

While appreciative of her dedication to duty, he had assured her that they could handle it. After all, if they needed her, she was only a short flight away. It had taken some doing, but he had finally convinced the head nurse to go and enjoy herself. She had climbed into the passenger seat of the helicopter a short time later.

Seeing her happy smile, Colonel Potter hoped that they wouldn't need to recall her. That no one at this unit would be needed for surgery any time soon. He knew better, of course.

* * *

Feb. 16th: 1400 hours

"Thank y'all for helping me with this," Sarabeth MacAllister stated. Inside her quarters, the Texan had her feet propped up. Her dog was resting beside her chair. The flag of her home state was once again hanging on her wall. With the heater warming the small area and with the two small carvings of Australian mammals and the rest of her decorations back in place; the woman's tent had a comfortable, welcoming feel to it. She smiled at her companions, "We'll have the quilt top finished in no time."

Earlier, she had announced that there would be a "sewing party" in her tent; that cookies and coffee would be served; and that all of the nurses,-and nurses only, were invited to attend. She had firmly pushed Captain Pierce away from her door when he showed up. He left only after she handed him a tin full of "cow pies" cookies.

With the exception of Monica Parnelli who, not surprisingly, had refused to join them, the nurses of the 4077th were crowded around inside the tent. All of them held sewing needles and pieces of material.

"This is fun," Kellye remarked. "I've never made a baby quilt before."

"I'd much rather be doing this kind of embroidering," observed Liza, "than the surgical kind."

"That's for sure!" Christie exclaimed. She held up the pattern she was working on and laughed. "Trust Hawkeye to come up with something strange: a lobster wearing a bib and holding a fork!"

"You think that's strange?" Linda challenged. "Look at Major's Winchester's design. It's all these squiggly shapes."

"It's supposed to be the opening bars of '_Brahms: Lullaby'_," Sarabeth explained with a wry grin. "He said it was very important to introduce infants to the classics immediately."

"At least it's better than some of the other music he plays," Jeanette commented. "That 'Dead Children's Lament' gives me nightmares."

"Speaking of nightmares…when does ours begin?" Sandra asked seriously.

MacAllister shrugged. "The supply truck is supposed to be carrying more blood products and antibiotics than usual. So that means…soon."

"Well, at least we got to have fun at the dance," Christie noted.

"How would you know?" Jeanette challenged. "You and Tony left the mess tent after the first dance."

"What makes you think we _didn't_ have fun?" Nurse Baker replied with a meaningful grin.

The women laughed at her statement.

* * *

Walking outside the tent, Lieutenant Parnelli stopped to listen to the sounds of merriment coming from within. She knew they were talking about her. That was all right. She didn't need them. She didn't need Colonel Flagg, either. She'd figure out a way to get her revenge on MacAllister. And she would have the last laugh.

* * *

The Intelligence officer sat at his desk. He refused to admit it but he was stymied by his lack of progress in his investigations. He had nothing that he could really use on Pierce. And, while he knew that the Korean family at the 4077th had somehow been important in locating Zheng He, that lead was certainly a dead end. He almost smiled at the play on words until he remembered that he didn't allow himself to have a sense of humor.

Flagg frowned. He had found nothing on Yunjin, either. He still didn't know whether the word was someone's name, or a coded message, or if it held any meaning at all. He could not find anything, anything at all. That lack of evidence told him there was something out there; he was just going to have to dig harder.

The youngest MacAllister had to know more that she was admitting. The trouble was; she was too closely protected there---both by the medical personnel and by the patrols that routinely swept through that area.

If he could ever get her away from that outfit, he could arrange her kidnapping. He was sure of that. And, she'd tell him everything…she'd beg to tell him everything.

For now, Flagg decided, remembering the _little talk_ that her oldest brother had had with him, that would be done only as a last resort. Crockett MacAllister had approached him with a warning to leave his sister alone. It had been one of the few times…no, make that the only time…that he had ever had even an inkling of fear.

The tall Texan, who always seemed so easy going, had proved he was, indeed, a very dangerous man. And he had convinced the CID officer that he meant business. So, for now, the redheaded woman was off-limits. For now….

At least, Colonel Flagg consoled himself; he was more successful with his plan to draw Zheng He out of hiding. Several of the Chinese prisoners that he had interrogated and had then 'allowed' to escape had been spreading his carefully planted information. That tactic, coupled with his hatred…or fear…of the _'fire-haired'_ demons that were still raiding Chinese camps, had helped to nudge the general out into the open.

Just a few more carefully worded radio messages, harrowing survivor tales and the right bait placed along the trail, and he would have Zheng He. And then he'd see who had the last laugh.

* * *

The G-2 officer sat at his desk. He frowned over the report he was studying. "Sterling, the officer spoke, "hand me the recon pictures taken over sectors Fox 3 and Delta 12 for the past week, will you?"

"Got something?" Captain Sterling questioned as he handed the photographs to his commanding officer.

"Maybe," the man answered vaguely. He took a magnifying glass to examine some of the reconnaissance pictures. Intermittently requesting other reports, and staring at the papers before him, the senior officer remained deep in thought.

Silently concentrating on paper work of his own, the captain waited. He knew the soldier was on the trail of something important.

"I'll be damned," the Texan announced unexpectedly. He leaned back in his chair and added, with a bemused laugh, "There's going to be a battle near Kunsan--even if Flagg has to orchestrate it himself."

"How is he going to manage it?" The man asked as he moved to the other officer's desk. He didn't question his commander's assessment. James Sterling had fought beside him in the Second World War and in this one, too. And he trusted his judgment.

"We know that Flagg, and his sources, are behind these stories from escaped prisoners and all these Chinese radio broadcasts about a den of '_fire-haired' _demons being located near Kunsan," Crockett MacAllister stated. He picked up some of the photographs. "And, from our source, we know that this is the area where Zheng He went to ground this past month. It used to be a Buddhist temple---until the butcher killed the monks and all of the people who had sought refuge there."

The anger in his voice was evident. It disappeared as the man continued with his explanation, "Until now, Zheng He's been ignoring those reports. He's been content to stay hidden, out of the action, and let his senior officers lead the many attacks against us. But now, with this latest message about one of the '_fire-haired_' demons being separated from the group, apparently he's decided to move down the road…towards Kunsan."

The officer indicated a series of time lapse pictures, "These are four troop trucks leaving the camp---just one slipping away at a time." He tapped another photo, "Then, three days later, here are the same four trucks gathered together within 25 miles of the target."

"And we know they're the same four trucks because…?" The captain asked.

"Three out of the four have identifiable marks on the hoods or canvas tops that can be picked up by the camera," MacAllister grinned.

"And no transport trucks have come back to that temple?" Sterling asked.

"Nothing's gone back in," MacAllister confirmed.

"Four trucks," Sterling thought out loud. "That's about 40 to 50 men. We know that he likes to keep at least 50 of the 'worst of the worst' around him as bodyguards for protection against the _demons_ that are hunting him." He smiled knowingly at the Texan who returned his smirk with an arched eyebrow. "So, either he's already moved with them, or he's planning to move…soon."

"There is no doubt that the majority of the Chinese army is rallying to hit us hard," the red headed man spoke. "We're fixin' to be in the middle some of the fiercest fighting we've seen yet."

"True." Sterling agreed. "But, he could also be planning to use the upcoming attacks as diversions…which would allow him carry out a personal vendetta."

The captain moved to the map on the wall. "Zheng He would have to come down from this road and cross the river, here." He indicated a location. "We could blow the bridge after he crosses it. That would leave him hemmed in by the river on one side and his back to the sea. Plus," he continued with growing excitement, "that whole area is marshland. "It would be a _bitch_ for them to have to slog through that mud."

"If he's only got 50 men with him; and no support from the majority of the Chinese Army; and we're waiting at the base of these hills…." He turned to face the other man. "We've got him."

"It could be a decoy and there's no one in the trucks except the drivers," the colonel pointed out.

"You don't think so."

"I don't think so," MacAllister agreed. "Divide and conquer, Jim. That's always a good way to win a battle."

Captain Sterling smiled in disbelief. "So Colonel Flagg has actually done something right for a change?"

Crockett MacAllister shrugged. "Even a blind hog will root up an acorn, now and then," he drawled. "Are all of our '_fire-haired' _demons still accounted for? Do we have anyone who has been reported missing or who may have wandered down that way?"

The other man shook his head. "I don't have any reports from newly arrived soldiers, yet; but all of our known redheads are where they're supposed to be."

The colonel nodded. "Then Flagg's playing bluff poker. We'll still need to keep a very sharp, very constant eye on them. If any one of them is not where they're supposed to be, I want to know about it--immediately."

He continued, "I'll take this to General Hawthorne. He may want to wait until our source can confirm the change of scenery. In the meantime, we'll fly recons over the area--high enough to keep from being spotted. We'll make some _very_ discreet inquiries into the type of enemy firepower that's being set up in the area. As soon as we get the go-ahead, we can start moving some troops over…even more discretely."

"And after that?" Sterling asked.

Colonel Crockett MacAllister's predatory grin was enough of an answer for him.


	46. Chapter 46

FORTY SIX

* * *

Feb 18th: 0930 hours

Monica Parnelli was bored. She had come off her shift a couple of hours ago. She should have been tired. However, there had only been one soldier in the hospital ward and he had slept most of the night. So had she, although she didn't intend to tell anyone that.

Major Houlihan had returned this morning. The older woman was looking more relaxed and was happier than the hospital staff had seen her in a while. "And we all know what _she_ was doing," Parnelli told herself and then dismissed her senior office from her thoughts. She planned the rest of her day. She'd probably take a long, hot shower--or at least, with the water restrictions still in place--a semi-warm short one.

Then she could paint her toenails and write a letter to her brother. After that, maybe go down to Rosie's. She certainly wasn't going to attend the lecture that Colonel Potter had asked Captain Hunnicutt to present. She liked B J but a voluntary lecture on venereal disease? She was _not_ going to waste her time.

She remembered that Roy was still the acting the company clerk. He'd always been friendly to her. Maybe he'd give her access to the personnel files; that was something Klinger had never allowed. Smiling happily, Monica walked towards the commander's office.

* * *

Corporal Roy Goldman was feeling very tired this morning. He had paper and folders everywhere. Some, he simply hadn't been able to take care of, yet; others, he had no idea what they were or what to do with them. They had been tossed onto the cot; it held a mass of papers that seemed to be growing every time he turned his back.

He had never realized how much paperwork was involved in the company clerk's job. He consulted the list Klinger had left for him. What was Form AGF4 stroke M dash 54? And why did he need to send it out every day?

He looked up as the outer door was opened. Goldman was relieved it was only Nurse Parnelli. He had promised Colonel Potter that he'd have everything organized and ready to go by noon. He had been far too optimistic, the corporal thought gloomily.

"Hello, Roy," Monica greeted the man cheerfully. "How's it going?"

"Lousy," the company clerk admitted. "There's too much to do. I never get finished. I have all of these reports to type. But I don't know where to begin. Sarabeth's been trying to help me, but…." He shrugged. "I just can't seem to get the hang of this. Besides," he grumbled, "I'm missing the lecture."

"You _wanted_ to go to that dull lecture?" The woman asked in astonishment.

"No. But I did want the points added towards time off that the colonel said he was going to give to everyone who attended."

"Well, go then," Parnelli stated. "I'll stay here until you get back."

The man looked at her in surprise. This particular nurse was not known for her charitable acts. "Since the colonel's at the lecture, someone has to stay at the office to answer the phones; someone who knows _how_ to answer them," he informed her.

"Klinger lets me answer these phone lines all the time." The woman told him nonchalantly.

Corporal Goldman asked, skeptically, "Really?"

"Really," she assured him. "Now, go. It will be over soon."

With quick words of thanks, Goldman grabbed his jacket and left the office. Taking off her own coat and placing it on the chair, the woman headed for the filing cabinet. To her disgust, it was locked. She surveyed the office. What else could she look at?

She lifted some of the papers off of a stack to read their contents: a requisition for more toilet paper; some classical records that Major Winchester wanted; a request for more blankets for the orphans. No one cared about orphans. Just like no one cared about children who had been placed in foster homes.

Starting to carefully return the sheets to their proper place, the nurse hesitated. With all this mess, who'd know? She dropped the papers haphazardly onto the desk and then nearly knocked over the entire stack, in surprise, as the phone rang.

Should she answer it? Why not? She _did_ know how to operate it. Grabbing the hand set, Lieutenant Parnelli announced, "MASH 4077th." She listened to the voice at the other end. "Colonel Blankenship? It's good to hear from you. No, Major Houlihan's not back, yet. I guess she's having such a good time in Seoul, that she's staying a couple of hours longer than scheduled."

"No, Lieutenant MacAllister's attending a mandatory lecture…on VD." Monica added, in a whisper, just loud enough to be overheard, "Maybe _this_ time she'll pay attention." She smiled to herself. The Army Colonel had heard her. "What's that, ma'am? Oh, nothing; nothing at all. What can we help you with?"

"You want to talk to them about the problems at the 8063rd? Sure, I'll let them know you called." Adding, as if in afterthought, "You know, Colonel, Lieutenant MacAllister is _really_ interested in going over to that hospital; but, she feels like she should stay here…to help Major Houlihan. Well, better go, Colonel. I'll give them the message. 4077th, out."

Putting down the receiver, Monica smiled again. There! Maybe she had gotten the troublemaker transferred over to the 8063rd…permanently. For a few more minutes, the woman snooped around, reading whatever caught her attention. When she heard footsteps approaching, she sat in the chair and waited, innocently.

"Any problems?" Roy Goldman asked as he entered the office.

"Not a one," the nurse replied. "Learn anything?"

* * *

Feb 19th: 1600 hours

Sergeant Klinger was in an extremely foul mood. He had returned to the hospital unit in a good mood…until he walked into his office. It was a good thing there were doctors nearby because he almost had a heart attack as he saw the disaster area that was waiting for him. Goldman had tried to explain and Klinger had tried not to throttle him.

Since he was now a higher rank than the other medic, the man from Toledo knew he couldn't hit him. He really couldn't even yell at him, like he wanted to. Instead, seeing the two duffle bags of unsorted, undistributed mail, the man grabbed them and said gruffly, "I'll take care of this. You work on cleaning up this mess!" With that, Max Klinger had stalked away from the office.

Now, he was stuck carrying two heavy bags around with no place to sort it. The company clerk walked towards the VIP tent. He would have some room to work in there.

"Good afternoon, Klinger!" Father Mulcahy called out to him. "Welcome back!"

"What's so good about it?" The man grumbled as he swung open the door to the visiting officer's quarters. He slammed the sacks on the cot and began pulling out the letters and packages that were inside. Muttering to himself, Klinger read through the names and started the long process of separating each item into a pile for the person it belonged to.

Gradually, he calmed down. His cousin, Fatima, had written to him. That jasmine flower could make anyone smile. One package from Texas automatically went into the MacAllister stack; until he read the name on it. Sarabeth's mother had sent something to him. Cookies maybe? He couldn't wait to open that one.

When he finally finished his sorting, he placed most of the letters inside the tents of their owners. After making those deliveries, Klinger also stopped back by the hospital office. Corpsman Goldman tensed when he saw the returning company clerk.

The sergeant waved away his concerns. "Just getting some of the souvenirs I bought in Tokyo." Remembering that he had received encouragement when he was learning the job, he added, "Keep trying, Roy. You'll get the hang of it."

* * *

Entering the mess tent, with his arms full of packages, the man from Toledo was greeted with great enthusiasm. He announced, "Most of your mail is waiting for you in your quarters. I just have a few packages for our fearless leaders." There was a small stampede for the door. Mail call was always a welcomed event.

"Colonel, here's something from Mrs. Colonel," the man reported

"Gracias, Klinger." The commander accepted the package with a smile. "Judging from the feel of this, Mildred must have sent me a couple more Zane Grey novels. Bless that girl."

"Dibs on them, after you, sir," Lieutenant MacAllister spoke.

"Me, too," Captain Hunnicutt added.

"And here's one for you, Major Houlihan," the clerk continued his postal deliveries.

He gave a small box to the charge nurse who read the label and smiled, "That dear, sweet man."

"And one for you, sir."

Winchester beamed when he recognized the handwriting on his parcel. "Marvelous! Another recording from Honoria. Ah, the voice of civilization will once again be heard in this wilderness."

"Anything for me?" Like my missing nudist magazines?" Captain Pierce questioned. "Or how about someone tall, slinky and blonde?"

"There's nothing like that in my mail sack, sir. I do have a copy of the Crabapple Cove Courier with your name on it."

"That works just as well." Hawkeye took the newspaper from him.

"How about me, Klinger?" B J asked. "Maybe some of Peg's rum cake?"

"No packages, sir. Only a couple of letters. Should I take them to the Swamp?"

"Don't you dare!" The man from California stated. He eagerly reached for his messages from home.

"And, last, but not least...two packages for the lady in the front row: one from Texas and one's a surprise." The sergeant handed over the boxes.

"Thanks, Klinger." Sarabeth read the address on the unfamiliar one, "Wallingford & Chadwick. Boston, Massachusetts." Puzzled, she looked at Winchester for an explanation.

"Sounds like a law firm," Hunnicutt said. He didn't look up from his mail. "Someone must be suing you."

"Yeah, they want your oil wells," Pierce added. He didn't look up from his newspaper, either.

"Actually, Hunnicutt, Wallingford & Chadwick are the finest chocolatiers in all of New England." the major replied dryly. "I apologize, Sarabeth. I had specifically requested they be delivered on Valentine's Day---or _before_."

Colonel Potter observed, "At least you got them in the _same_ month."

"Chocolate is always appreciated---no matter when it arrives," the Texan stated with a smile. She removed the paper wrappings and admired the gold foil decorations on the container. "It's too pretty to even open," she said but lifted the lid from the box anyway.

She sniffed the contents in delight. "These smell delicious!" MacAllister sampled one of the candies. "And they taste even more delicious than they smell! Y'all have some." Sarabeth passed the box around the table. She then offered it to the rest of the people still inside the mess tent.

"Wait! Those are for you...." Winchester began. In resignation, he silenced his protest. By the time the candy box was returned to her, only two pieces remained. "Obviously, the gift was well received," he noted. Removing the last chocolates, he placed them in her hand, "Happy Valentine's Day---a few days late, my dear."

"Thank you, Charles. That was _sweet_ of you." With a smile, MacAllister gave him one of the candies and ate the other.

Hawkeye Pierce remarked, "I think he's a bit _nutty_, myself."

B J Hunnicutt smiled, "Charles isn't nutty, Hawk, he's just a little _cocoa_."

"And both of you need to be boxed and put on a shelf," Major Winchester retorted.

Max Klinger cleared his throat. He was suddenly embarrassed. "I brought all of you something from Tokyo. They're just little trinkets. I hope you like…."

"_Attention, Major Houlihan,_" Corporal Goldman's voice was heard over the loud speaker. There were several bumps, bangs and electronic squeals as he fumbled with the microphone. _"…Blankenship_ _wants to talk...and…MacAllister…right away_."

Major Houlihan sighed to herself. "What now?" She questioned in resignation.

Lieutenant MacAllister sighed as well, "Reckon we'll find out."


	47. 47

AN: for some reason the alignment refuses to remain set on the left side. I hope I have fixed it. If not, apologies.

FORTY SEVEN

* * *

Feb 19th: 1630 hours

Corporal Goldman was waiting for Major Houlihan outside of the command office. "Sorry, ma'am, but she's really unhappy," he spoke before opening the door for the two nurses.

"Terrific," Lieutenant MacAllister muttered.

The senior nurse took up the hand set, sat at the desk and said, "MASH 4077th, Major Houlihan." She listened to the angry words from the Army Medical Supervisory Board officer as she tried to explain, "But…I didn't get a message, Colonel. Yes, I was here yesterday. What do you mean, why did I come in late? I reported for duty at 0700. Yes, Colonel Potter can verify that. No, Colonel, I didn't get a message from you. We're breaking in a new company clerk, maybe he…. You spoke to a Lieutenant Parsley? Parsley, are you sure? We don't…wait, do you mean Parnelli?"

Hearing that name, Sarabeth MacAllister shook her head in exasperation. No further explanation was needed.

Margaret Houlihan talked to the colonel for a few more minutes before ending with, "First thing in the morning, Colonel. We'll be expecting you. And, yes, I will speak to that nurse, don't worry about that!" Judging from the furious look on the charge nurse's face; that discussion was going to be a very _intense_ one.

Waiting until she was certain the connection had been severed, the major slammed down the hand set. Kicking the chair out of her way, she looked at the newest company clerk. Goldman now understood why Klinger had cautioned him to never get Major Houlihan angry. He swallowed nervously, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't know about any call. I would have told you…."

Houlihan cut him off, "Corporal, tell Lieutenant Parnelli that I want to see her in my quarters-immediately!"

After he ran out of the building, she turned to the Texan who was leaning against the wall. "Blankenship was expecting me to call her back yesterday. Parnelli was supposed to pass on the message. Obviously, she did not. I'm going to have to discuss that with her."

"She's going to tell you she forgot," MacAllister observed.

"Probably," Houlihan agreed. "I'll have to see if I can improve her memory. The colonel is going to stay with us for the next 2-3 days. Have Klinger set up the VIP tent for her. And have the rest of the nurses wait in the mess tent until I get there."

"Well, we know the hospital and treatment records are still in good shape. So we're okay there." The red-haired woman asked, "Do you want me to have them start packing away personal belongings, again? We can get most of that out of the way before your meeting."

"Do that," the senior officer ordered. She stalked out of the hospital building.

* * *

"Thanks for this bookmark, Max. It's pretty," Lieutenant MacAllister was walking with Sergeant Klinger a few minutes later. They were headed towards her tent.

"I wanted to get you something better but I didn't have enough money," he admitted.

"It's perfect," she noted. "Speaking of perfect…will you have time to get the VIP tent ready?"

The man nodded, "Sure I can get it ready. But do you _really _want me to put a flower arrangement on her table, along with some cookies?

"She's not real happy with us, right now. I'm hoping that might placate her," the nurse explained.

"Cookies from home should do the trick. Speaking of home…," Klinger smiled at the woman, "how did your mother know when my birthday is? And how did she know that I liked the strawberry preserves you let me taste?"

Sarabeth smiled mysteriously, "Mothers just know things like that."

"I'd like to write her, to thank her, if that's all right."

"She'd like that." They had arrived at her quarters. "Come on in. I'll get you the things for Colonel Blankenship. And, I'd like to show you the baby quilt." The woman held the door open for the camp canine who strolled inside with them, "Where have you been, pup?" She scratched Ernie behind his ears and picked up the material on her tabletop.

"See it?" MacAllister displayed the quilt. "I've only got one more panel to embroider; then I'll send it home to Mama to finish. Here's your picture, Klinger. I added a palm tree--to balance out your camel."

"My drawing turned out better than I expected. I sure hope B J and Peg like this."

"They will. It's looking good. Everyone's put a lot of effort into it." Sarabeth handed the man a container and the centerpiece from her table. "I need to get over to the mess tent. Thanks for taking care of Colonel Blankenship's tent for me, Klinger. And thanks again, for the bookmark."

* * *

Closing the door to the mess tent, Lieutenant MacAllister removed her canvas cap and shook out her braid. "I hate hats," she muttered and smiled at the women who were already there. "At least it's better than a sun bonnet. I really hated wearing them."

"It that still necessary?" Nurse Thompson asked. "The alerts were lifted last month but you're still wearing that every time you go out."

"Until Crockett tells me otherwise, it's necessary." The woman grabbed a cup of coffee from the serving line and sat down to wait with the rest of the nurses. "Major Houlihan will be here shortly."

"So what's going on?" Christie Baker asked. "Besides Blankenship coming and us having to pack up everything…again?'

Lieutenant Riggs groaned, "And I had just gotten everything back where I wanted it."

"Me, too," MacAllister nodded in understanding. "As far as what else is going on; the major will fill us in."

* * *

"…Lieutenant Parnelli is on punishment duty until further notice," Major Houlihan remarked. She added, "I know that, in the past, some of you have helped out the nurse being punished, so I'm warning you now…if anyone tries to help her…you will be put on report. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," came the chorus.

"Colonel Blankenship will be here at 0730 in the morning. I want everyone in their dress uniforms and inspection ready at 0630." She ignored the groans. "Do not give her the opportunity to find something wrong with yourself, your paperwork, or your quarters. Everyone, except Lieutenant MacAllister, is dismissed."

As the rest of the women filed out of the tent, one was heard to remark, "And who would help _her_?" They laughed as someone else answered, "Not me!"

When they were alone, Houlihan commented, "You were right. She _forgot_ to tell me."

"And, besides, it was all Goldman's fault, anyway," the Texan drawled.

"Yes, I heard that excuse, too."

"Some people," the second-in-command nurse shook her head. "Major, I'm supposed to go on duty in a couple of hours. Do you want me to start now---to look over the files one more time?"

To her surprise, the charge nurse said, "No. We're as ready as we're going to be. I'll take your shift, this evening. Parnelli should be scrubbing floors by then and I want to keep an eye on her."

"I see," the other woman replied with a grin.

* * *

Instead of returning directly to her tent, MacAllister headed towards the Swamp. Major Winchester, who was approaching from the other direction, called to her, "Is everything all right, Lieutenant? At first, I thought the camp was on fire…until I realized it was only the smoke coming from Margaret's ears."

Standing near the sign post, she waited for him. "Major Houlihan was supposed to call Colonel Blankenship yesterday. She only found out about it a few minutes ago," MacAllister explained. "And now, the colonel is coming here to _talk_ to her. We can expect the fireworks in the morning."

"Ah," the man nodded. "That explains the flames."

"Yes, it is a _combustible_ situation," the woman grinned. Looking at him more seriously, Sarabeth spoke, "Charles, I am sorry about the candy. If you had asked me to open it later, I would have. But, I couldn't eat that in front of everybody and not offer them some." She continued, "That's one of the _laws_ in my family: MacAllisters take care of their own; we stand by our friends; and we share what we have."

"I should have remembered that," Winchester admitted. "I did envision the two of us sharing those treats…alone. I am glad, however, that you enjoyed them---no matter how briefly they lasted."

"I have the evening off. To make it up to you: would you like to come over the ranch house for a couple of hours? Mama sent me some sugar cookies and some more hot chocolate mix. We could sit and talk for a little bit."

"A marvelous suggestion, my dear," the officer remarked. "And I shall bring my record player. We can have music to entertain us while we converse."

"Sounds good. I'll see you over there in a few minutes. I need to give Hawk and B J the latest news."

"If you insist," Major Winchester held open the door for the woman and followed her inside the tent.

The other two surgeons were relaxing on their beds. Both were still reading their mail. The Texan grinned when she saw the old straw Stetson that Captain Pierce was wearing once again. "Howdy, Sheriff," she drawled. "Howdy, Deputy," she greeted the other man. "The stagecoach brought in some news."

"Well, mosey on over here and tell us," the doctor from Maine directed.

"Colonel Blankenship will arrive in the morning. Y'all can expect a shoot-out soon afterwards."

"No real bullets, I hope," B J said with a grin.

MacAllister returned his grin, "I sure hope not. But, right now, she's madder than a grizzly with a sore tooth."

"Well, I don't care what how much of a bear she is," Captain Pierce announced. He added vehemently, "I am not dismantling my still again!"

"And I'm not going to take down Erin's pictures, either," Captain Hunnicutt added.

The nurse held up her hands to stop their onslaught, "All we're asking is for y'all to keep the clutter contained _inside_ the Swamp."

"Naturally, that will not be a problem for me," Major Winchester stated. "I'm quite certain it will be impossible for these _garbage_ collectors."

"Charles, I _refuse_ to reply to your _rubbish_," Hawkeye retorted.

"No _dirty_ fighting, now," the Texan warned with a laugh. "I'll see y'all later."

After she left, the man from Boston searched through his collection of records. Selecting a few, he gathered his phonograph and headed for the door.

Hawkeye watched his actions curiously, "Going somewhere, Charles?"

"Yes," the major replied and quickly added, "And no, you are not invited. Gentlemen, I have the opportunity to be away from this _dump_ for a few hours and I do not intend to _waste_ a minute of it."

"Keep it _clean_, Charles," was B J's parting shot.


	48. 48

FORTY EIGHT

Charles Winchester knocked at Sarabeth MacAllister's door. He stepped inside at her welcoming call.

"Howdy, Charles," Sarabeth greeted him. She was putting the coffee pot on top of the heater. "The cocoa will be ready in a couple of minutes."

"I'll set up the records," the man said as he placed his record player on the table. "Will Mozart's '_Clarinet Concerto in B Flat Major_' be all right for our first selection?"

"That's a nice piece. I need lively music tonight. I have a feeling the colonel's going to chew our tails off tomorrow. And keep us very busy for the next couple of days. Since I have just a few more things to pack up, I'm going to take care of them while the water's boiling."

Carefully removing the figurines from her shelf, MacAllister wrapped paper around the gifts from the Australian soldiers. She reached for the next one and caught Winchester looking at her. The woman smiled at him, "I'm glad that you talked me into buying this one, Charles." Showing him the carving of a dog laying beside a baby in a basket, she added, "It reminds me of a dog I had once."

"And, is there is a tale behind that tail?" He asked with a small grin.

"Yes, but it's a sad one. Do you want to hear it?"

"If you want to tell it, I should like very much to hear it." The major pulled out her chair. "Please be seated. If you are indeed going to be as busy as you say, you should rest your ankle as much as possible."

"We are going to be busy," MacAllister agreed. She poured the hot drink into the mugs and placed their refreshments on the table. Courteous as always, the man remained standing until she was settled. She grinned at him as he brought her a crate for a foot stool. "Thanks." Waiting until Winchester was in his chair, she passed the container to him before grabbing a couple of cookies for herself.

Taking a bite, Sarabeth began her story, "With seven of us kids, and all of us only a year apart, my Mama had her hands full. Of course, when we were babies, she had the ranch hand wives, her sisters and both of my grandmothers to help her. But when we started walking, she had a hard time keeping track of all of us. Even though Crockett and Bowie tried to run herd over us, some of us didn't corral as easy as the others."

"Yes," Winchester stated with dry amusement," I can think of _two_ MacAllisters who would be difficult to control."

Lifting an eyebrow at him, the Texan conceded with a laugh, "Fannin and I did seem to always be in hot water. Anyhow, while we had all kinds of dogs to help us with the cattle; Mama's partial to German Shepherds, so we had several of them, too. I think she assigned a dog to each of us. There was always at least one dog trailing after us where ever we went."

"She had one shepherd, Rex, who was her dog before she married my daddy. All of my brothers loved that dog. They would wrestle and roll around on the ground with him and he never offered to bite…ever. When he got tired, he would simply put his front paws on whichever boy was bothering him the most. And, no matter how my brother would struggle, that dog would pin him to the ground so that he couldn't get up. Rex wouldn't release him until my Mama told him to let go."

"By the time I came around, he was getting old. He mostly stayed on the front porch or sat out in the sun. But he still let me play with him. I'd put my bonnets on his head and tie ribbons to his tail. He'd just give this long-suffering sigh and lick my nose." Sarabeth smiled in happy remembrance.

"Then one day, in early spring, when I was about 4½ years old, Mama, Travis and I were out in the garden. The two of us were planting some onions and Mama was hoeing weeds. I had finished planting my allotment and I went back to the tow sack to get some more. About the time I stuck my hand in the sack, I heard the warning rattle. A very large rattlesnake had crawled inside to get out of the heat. By the time I noticed him, he was already coiled and ready to strike."

"I was frozen. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. And my hand was inches away from his head. I knew I was fixin' to get bit; but, just then, Rex came running up and knocked me backwards. He was growling like I'd never heard a dog growl before."

"That broke my paralysis. I started hollering for help. The other dogs gathered around and they began to fight the rattlesnake, too. Mama killed the snake with her hoe. She took one look at Rex and said, '_Y'all get in the truck_.' Travis grabbed my hand and we lit out for our pick up truck parked by the side of the house."

"She picked up Rex and headed for the truck to take him to the vet. But…he was an old dog…and he had been struck twice. He didn't make it out of the driveway. That was the first time I can remember seeing my mama cry. And I started listening _very_ _closely_ for rattlesnakes after that."

With a sigh, the Texan shook her head. "I've been thinking about Rex, and Bowie, a lot, recently, and I don't know why." Pausing to listen to the artillery explosions that could be heard in the distance, she shuddered. "Now, why do you suppose this place would remind me of dead dogs and dead brothers?"

"Could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that that we are incessantly inundated with bodies and blood?" The man from Boston asked. He too heard the big guns in the background. "I've been thinking about my brother, recently, as well," Winchester acknowledged. "I can still see everything so clearly; even though it's been 30 years since his passing. I was laying flat on the ice; I had one hand on Honoria's shirt trying to keep her head above the water; and I kept trying…and trying to reach Timothy."

"The look on his face, as he slipped under the ice for the last time, still haunts me. Every time Nurse Kellye talks about Tim, I have to forcibly remind myself that she's talking about her brother, not mine." He gestured to the war noises they both could hear. "And out there, someone else's brother is dying."

For a few long seconds, both members of the medical unit were silent. Then Sarabeth said, "Well, aren't we both just full of doom and gloom, tonight?" She suddenly stood as the next record began to play. "Come on, Charles, let's dance."

He looked at her in surprise, "Dance?"

"Yes, dance. I know I 'two-step' better than I waltz; but that lovely music demands we participate." She reached for his hands. "Come on. It'll help clear out some of these dark clouds."

Agreeing with her, Winchester stood. Both of them took the formal positions, maintaining the socially dictated proper distance between dance partners. By the end of the record, however, they were holding each other closer.

"Much better," Sarabeth smiled up at him. Then, realizing their proximity, she pulled away with a self-conscious grin.

"Yes," the man released her, reluctantly. "I can see rays of sunshine appearing. May I have the next dance, my dear?"

Before she could reply, the public address system was activated, "_Sorry, folks. Two ambulances on the way; with more coming. All medical teams report to triage."_

"No! No! No!" Charles Winchester protested. "I am not going! I am tired of death! And I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in all of Korea. I am **not** going!" The doctor proclaimed to the canvas walls. He forced himself to walk over to the phonograph, move the needle to its support and turn off the machine. "I shall ask that question again, later," he promised as he reached for his coat.

"Time for a different tune," the nurse announced with a sigh. She stopped long enough to fill up her dog's water bowl and place her hair under her cap. "Don't go wandering around, Ernie," she spoke to the dog on her cot. "Sounds we're going to have lots of traffic tonight."


	49. 49

243

FORTY NINE

The 4077th MASH unit did, indeed, have plenty of traffic that evening. The first two ambulances soon appeared. The men inside were unloaded; their stretchers scattered in front of the hospital while their injuries were assessed. Before the medical teams had finished that triage, another litter jeep drove up; bringing in two North Korean soldiers. An ambulance bus, filled with civilians whose village had been shelled, arrived at the compound a short time later.

Even though Regimental Headquarters had sent a truck with extra medical supplies; it wasn't enough. It seemed like there was never enough necessities to adequately care for all of the wounded. Despite the shortages, the members of the surgical unit struggled throughout the night to save the ones they could.

Early the next morning, the last patient was finally moved to the recovery room. Stumbling over to the Swamp, the three surgeons were ready for a few hours sleep. Their first stop was the still, however.

Pouring them all a drink, Hawkeye Pierce proposed a toast, "Here's to the idiots in the War Department who can't send us enough surgical supplies; although they can certainly send us a generous portion of injured people. May they all be diagnosed with dysentery."

"And have a toilet paper shortage," B J Hunnicutt added.

"And experience intense tenesmus," Charles Winchester contributed. He took a swallow of the clear fluid in his glass and shuddered. Fine champagne, it was not. After settling down in his cot, he smiled. At least the first part of his evening has been enjoyable.

***

Colonel Potter was in his office, struggling to stay awake. He was waiting for the lines to clear; to call the MPs to collect their prisoners. He was also using the time to write a letter to his wife: '_Another long night, Mildred dear. With more to come, I'm sure.'_

Company clerks Klinger and Goldman were also trying to stay awake. The two of them were in the outer office, preparing the supply usage reports. "See, Roy, this is why we have to get all of that information," Sergeant Klinger informed his trainee. "Then we just type it in and send it off."

"It makes more sense, now. I get it…I think," Corporal Goldman stated and then yawned. "I don't suppose this can wait until morning?"

"It is morning," Klinger replied, miserably.

***

The few nurses not on duty were already asleep. And so were the rest of the camp personnel not involved in guarding the perimeter or the hospital cleaning details. One particular participant of the work crew was not especially happy.

"I scrubbed this floor already," Lieutenant Parnelli grumbled as she dunked her mop in the bucket near her feet.

"Well, it looks like you're scrubbing it again, ma'am," Private Starr noted. He was disinfecting the operating tables and wishing he was in bed, instead.

"You can always scrub the latrine floors, instead," Lieutenant MacAllister suggested helpfully. She and Major Houlihan were standing near the doorway observing their efforts.

"No thanks," the dark-haired nurse answered. "I'll work in here."

"Good. And, don't _forget_, Parnelli," the senior nurse added, "You'll be doing the same thing again on your next shift. I'll return in a few minutes to help with your _memory_ lesson."

The nurse was even less happy after the two women left the operating room.

***

Houlihan and MacAllister were making their final rounds. They had already stopped by the post-op wards. The duty nurses and the ward medics reported no concerns. As soon as patient care needs were met, the long process of combining surgery records with triage and pre-op notes would begin.

Outside the VIP tent, Sergeant Rizzo, the guard assigned to watch over the prisoners inside, assured the women that no one would be able to sneak up on him, _this_ time. He also added, in his low growling voice, "I don't think those Koreans like the flowers. But I sure enjoyed those cookies."

As they walked away, Major Houlihan looked at the woman beside her, "Cookies and flowers? For Colonel Blankenship?" She asked in amusement.

Lieutenant MacAllister shrugged. "I figured it couldn't hurt," she said with a grin and then said, "Major, there's no need for her to share your tent. She can have mine. I'll set up a cot in Baker & Kellye's tent and I'll keep Ernie over there with me."

"That might be better. It would give her some privacy."

"Besides," the Texan stated, "that way you don't have to listen to her…day and night."

She grinned at Houlihan's tired smile of acknowledgment. "I just need to straighten up a few things in there and get my clothes. I'll head over and finish the pre-op cleaning after that." Seeing the head nurse trying to hide her exhaustion, she added, with a yawn of her own, "I'll keep an eye on Parnelli. Do you want to get some rest?"

The older woman shook her head, "There's not enough time. Colonel Blankenship is supposed to be here in about an hour." Both of the nurses looked skyward as they heard the sounds of a helicopter approaching. Margaret Houlihan looked at her watch and stifled a groan, "That's probably her now."

***

Standing at attention, the MASH charge nurses waited for the member of the Army Medical Supervisory Board to arrive. They were not looking forward to this visit.

The jeep, sent to the landing pad on the hilltop, stopped in front of the women. Pasting on official smiles, they met the older woman who was being helped down from the vehicle.

"Welcome back to the 4077th, Colonel," Major Houlihan stated.

"I spoke to your company clerk, on the way over here," the senior officer spoke without acknowledging the greeting. "He said that this unit had just finished an all-night session in the OR. And that neither of you had had any sleep yet."

"There's still work to be done," the head nurse replied. She made a mental note to talk to a certain sergeant about divulging too much information. "We obviously can not call assembly for my nurses. Would you like to tour the post-op wards and observe the clean up details?"

"Yes," Colonel Blankenship agreed. "And, after that, I want both of you to get some sleep. I'll discuss my concerns later this morning."

"I'll take your bag to your quarters, ma'am," Lieutenant MacAllister said as she reached for the woman's satchel. "Since the VIP tent is in use, you'll be staying elsewhere. Major Houlihan can show you where it's at, when you're ready. I'll see y'all in the

pre-op area in a few minutes."

***

Stopping long enough to get a fresh pot of coffee, a mug and some clean linen, the Texan walked inside her 'ranch house'. "Company's coming, Ernie," the woman announced. "We'll be staying with Kellye for a while. And don't you come sneaking back over here! I don't reckon the colonel will want you crawling into bed with her."

Quickly getting the tent ready for her guest, Sarabeth brought out another container of cookies from her footlocker. She placed the items on the table and looked at the phonograph. Deciding to not to return it, and the records, just yet, she grinned, "_Music doth have charms_…." She gathered the things she would need, and called the dog to her. "Couldn't hurt to keep it here," the woman added as she left her quarters.

***

AN: _For those of y'all without medical dictionaries: dysentery is an inflammation of the intestines resulting in frequent and bloody stools, abdominal pain, and tenesmus (rectal spasms). A bit graphic, I know. However, Hawkeye's right…it __is__ an appropriate curse._


	50. 50

240

FIFTY

Feb 20th: 1100 hours

That's probably him now," Fannin MacAllister remarked as he heard the sound of an approaching jeep. He frowned. "And he is very angry about something!"

The helicopter pilot and the intelligence officer were examining the terrain maps and aerial photographs of the area around Kunsan. Sterling was trying to determine where the best placement for the Allied troops would be. MacAllister was calculating the fuel requirements for their flight routes.

Colonel Crockett MacAllister stepped into his office. The other two men knew from his expression that something was wrong.

"Is it a go?" Captain Sterling asked.

It's a go," the colonel replied and then added, "But not for us." Unlocking his desk drawer, the man dropped the thick folder he was carrying into the drawer, slammed it shut and relocked it. "I'll be out back chunking rocks," the tall redhead announced.

The officers looked at each other in surprise. The younger MacAllister whistled, "If he's chucking rocks, he's really pissed about something. And it's not because someone else got the assignment…something's wrong."

After giving the senior officer a few minutes, the men walked outside. Silently, they watched him hitting his mark time after time until he finally ran out of rocks.

"Not for us?" Sterling inquired cautiously.

The G-2 officer turned to face them. He had regained his composure but they still could see the anger in his eyes. "General Hawthorne agrees that Zheng He and his bodyguards are there. He also agrees that this is probably the best time we'll ever have to capture him. However, he has decided that since Flagg instigated all of this; he's going to let Flagg handle it."

"What? Flagg lost him the first time!" The red-headed pilot said in disbelief.

"General Hawthorne is aware of that," Colonel MacAllister said. "It gets worse."

"Worse? How?"

"Last night's fireworks were just the beginning of the offensive we know is coming. Using that as his excuse, the general is not going to give Flagg any military support. No recon flights, no artillery coverage, no extra troops. Flagg's going to have to take on Zheng He with only his own squad as back up."

"But, he only has seven men…eight, if you count his driver," Captain Sterling protested. "And they're just regular military police. They don't have any assault training. That's one squad against a platoon or two. They'll be slaughtered!"

"General Hawthorne is aware of that, also," the older Texan stated flatly.

"Then, it's a win-win situation for Hawthorne," the younger Texan observed. "If Zheng He is captured--great; if Flagg is captured or killed--great. And those MPs? He'll just award them medals--post-humously."

"That does appear to be his strategy," Crockett acknowledged.

"So, big brother, are you going to warn Colonel Flagg?"

"Flagg and I aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment, little brother," he drawled. "But, yes, I'm going to warn him. Not that he will listen to me." MacAllister picked up another stone and threw it. It hit the tree with a solid thud. "Oh well, fun and games in Korea," he remarked. "Let's go back inside; we have other operations to work on."

***

Once inside the building, the senior officer looked at maps and photos that were scattered on the table. "Is that your field prep for Kunsan?" At their nods, he commented, "Couldn't hurt to keep it handy."


	51. 51

FIFTY ONE

* * *

Feb 20th: 1100 hours

"Sarabeth," Nurse Kellye called to the woman sleeping in the cot, "time to wake up."

Hearing her name, momentarily disorientated, the Texan opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings in confusion. She quickly realized where she was. "Oh…still in Korea," she said in disappointment.

"Still in Korea," the other nurse agreed.

"Too bad," Lieutenant MacAllister stated as she sat up in her bed and stretched. "Mama was cooking pancakes and bacon."

"Sorry," Tanakhamara said. She offered the other woman a ceramic mug filled with a thick dark liquid. "All I have for you is some really lousy coffee."

"After three hours sleep, this is a life saver. Thanks, Kellye."

The dark-haired woman grinned, "Better wait until after you taste that, to thank me."

The redheaded woman took a sip, twisted her face into a grimace and shuddered. "Oh my, that is bad." She took another swallow, anyway. "Anything I need to know about?" MacAllister asked as she began to dress.

"That old man from the village didn't make it," the other nurse informed her. "Everyone else is doing okay."

"He was so badly burned; I didn't figure he would." The charge nurse shook her head sadly. "Any messages from Crockett? I can tell he's angry about something this morning."

"Nothing that I know about," Kellye replied. She continued, "Colonel Blankenship examined all of our reports. She said she'd wait to talk to you and Major Houlihan before she talked to the rest of the nursing staff. She's in your quarters, now."

"Terrific," MacAllister muttered. "Anything else?"

"Before he went on duty, Major Winchester asked me if he could get his record player. I told him he'd have to talk to Colonel Blankenship about that. He didn't seem to be too pleased."

"He'll get over it," Sarabeth replied with a grin as she finished lacing her boots. "Has someone gone to wake up Major Houlihan?"

"Christie left a few minutes ago to do that. Oh, the MPs came by to pick up their prisoners and they dropped off a mail sack for us. Since Klinger was still asleep, Hawkeye and B J are sorting it over in the Swamp."

MacAllister looked up in mild alarm. "I'm expecting some things that neither of those overly-curious captains need to know about. I reckon I best get over there before they start ripping into those letters."

* * *

The two surgeons had dumped the contents of the mail bag onto Major Winchester's bed. They were now sitting near it as they read the names and home addresses on the envelopes. "Here's one for the colonel" Pierce announced, as he placed that letter in a stack. "And one for the good Father," he set that one down. Every member of the hospital unit had their own little section on the cot for their messages from home.

"One from North Dakota for Monica," Hunnicutt added, putting that one on the bed. He grabbed another handful of envelopes. "These are for Kellye and Sarabeth…both from Crockett. Here's one from Mitch Cochlan. And one for Klinger…and Christie…another one for Colonel Potter…."

"Here's one from Texas. And another one from Texas," the man from Maine sifted through his pile. "This one is from a Burnett MacAllister at Inchon." He looked at the other man in confusion. "That's not one of her brothers; so who is he?"

"That's probably a cousin," B J replied. "She said she has three of them over here. Plus, she has a cousin…or an uncle; I forget which…stationed in Germany."

Hawkeye grinned in amusement. "Texas isn't big enough for all the MacAllisters? They have to open up branch countries just to hold them all?" He picked up another letter. "This one's for Charles. It's not from his family. Who else would be writing him?" With a dismissive shrug, Pierce dropped that missive on the other side of the cot.

"Hawk," the man from California softly admonished. He stared fixedly at the other man. "You want me to hide your mail?"

"Oh, all right," Captain Pierce relented. He retrieved the envelope and placed it on the red velvet pillow that the major favored. "There. You're no fun."

"Here's one for Rizzo," B J noted as he continued his mail sorting and ignored the fake pout from his friend. "And Starr gets two."

"Hey, this one's from Bea Hunnicutt!" Pierce called out in excitement.

"Give it to me!" The other man eagerly reached for the letter.

Hawkeye snatched it away. "Not so fast, my postal patron. It's not addressed to you. It's to Sarabeth." He felt the envelope and then held it to the light. "I wonder if this is your birthday photograph. Shall we open it and see?"

"I'll take that," a woman's voice startled them as a hand quickly grabbed the letter from the surgeon. "Don't y'all know it against the law to open other people's mail?" Sarabeth MacAllister asked with a grin.

"But, if it's from B J's mom, it has to be a picture of him as a baby," Pierce protested. "I bet it's one of him…naked on a bear-skin rug." He had a wide smile on his face. "I can't wait to post that one on the bulletin board." He laughed at the other doctor's expression.

"Which is precisely why you aren't getting your hands on it," Sarabeth informed him. "And you're not getting the one that Peg sent, either."

"Come on," the man pleaded with boyish enthusiasm. "I'll give you a nickel."

"Nope," was the Texan's reply.

He stood and approached the woman. Leaning seductively towards her, he offered, "I'll let you see my appendix scar." At her head shake, he said, "I'll bottom deal you three kings in our next poker game." When that didn't work, Pierce tried again, "I'll be nice to Charles for a week."

"That's tempting," MacAllister noted. "But the answer's still no. Nobody sees these pictures until the party. And now, gentlemen," the Texan reached for her stack of mail. "Major Houlihan and I have a meeting with Colonel Blankenship. Wish us luck."

From the door of the Swamp, Hawkeye Pierce watched her walk towards her quarters. He turned to the other man in the tent. "I have to see what's in there. You know this means war," he commented.

"Police action," B J Hunnicutt corrected absentmindedly. He was worried. There actually was a baby picture of him posed on a rug. He sincerely hoped his mother had not sent that one. He'd never be able to live it down.


	52. 52

FIFTY TWO

* * *

The MASH 4077th charge nurses met outside the younger one's quarters. Conspicuously missing from the front door was the sign with the MacAllister Ranch brand on it. Major Houlihan noted its absence with a slight smile. The Texan shrugged and grinned. She was holding a tray with a coffee container and cups.

Taking a deep breath, and straightening their shoulders, the women knocked on the door and stepped inside. They stopped in surprise. A record was playing softly. The colonel had her feet resting on a crate. She had a book in her hand. Ernie, the small brown and white terrier, was curled up beside her. It was a peaceful scene; and it was not one the women were expecting. Glancing at each other, the nurses greeted the visiting officer.

"Have a seat," the colonel directed. Major Houlihan took the other chair as Lieutenant MacAllister opened the door and gestured for the enlisted man, waiting outside, to bring in the extra chair.

After he left, Sarabeth apologized, "I'm sorry about Ernie, ma'am. He was supposed to stay away from here. I'll put him out."

"He's fine," Blankenship replied. "I prefer cats but I don't mind dogs."

"Would you like some fresh coffee, Colonel?" The younger woman then offered. After pouring them a cup, she sat in the third chair.

Setting her reading material aside, their visitor asked, "Who's responsible for leaving all of this for me?"

The blonde nurse squared her shoulders. "I am," she stated, ready to accept the blame. "I told MacAllister to have this ready for you."

"Thank you, Major. This was an unexpected surprise. I don't see many amenities in my travels," Colonel Blankenship commented. With a small grin, she added, "Father Mulcahy, Corporal Goldman, Sergeant Klinger, Major Winchester and Colonel Potter have all talked to me about the missed communications. They all have assured me that it was not your fault; that you were not even aware of my earlier call. I must say you have some very strong supporters," the older woman smiled at the other two. "I trust the nurse who forgot to relay that message will not escape some punishment."

"Rest assured, Colonel," Major Houlihan said, "we are working to improve Lieutenant Parnelli's memory."

"Good. Now let's talk about your medical records." Colonel Blankenship sat up in her chair. "Do you know that your charts are in better shape immediately following an OR session, than the 8063rd's are, two days after one?"

Relieved at her words, Margaret Houlihan nodded, "My nurses and I work hard to keep everything together and up to date."

"Major Parker says she doesn't have enough personnel to keep all of their records current."

"We have the exact same number of nurses, Colonel," Houlihan pointed out.

"Yes. And, I know that you spent several days over there showing them how to set up this system. And she knows that I want it to be put in place at her hospital, as well. So why hasn't she done it? It is because she can't or she won't?" The Medical Supervisory nurse questioned.

"It is possible that she can't…her commanding officer does not seem to be as receptive to staffing problems as Colonel Potter is," the head nurse conceded. "But, Judy Parker never has been known for keeping up with her paperwork, either. And I've known her since our first semester of nursing school."

"She wants me to transfer MacAllister to her outfit to set up, and keep, her records in order."

"What!?" Major Houlihan objected. "That's out of the question!"

"No, hear me out," the colonel said, "I have some ideas…."

Lieutenant MacAllister, who had been listening quietly to their conversation, struggled to keep her dismay at that announcement from showing. In her experience, few of the colonel's suggestions had been good ones.

* * *

Pleased with their hospital records, and with her unexpected welcome, and with their reactions to her plan, Colonel Blankenship decided to cut short her stay. Besides, she needed to work out some final details before initiating her ideas at the other hospital unit.

After saying their goodbyes, the two charge nurses were walking back to their quarters. Both were intending to sleep a couple of more hours before their shifts began. MacAllister was saying, "…actually some of her proposals made sense, Major."

The senior nurse agreed. "Yes, they did. But, she's going to have to have everything completely arranged to my satisfaction before I agree to hand you over to the 8063rd."

Monica Parnelli had stopped beside the mess tent to tie her boot laces tighter. Kneeling beside the canvas wall, she heard the last part of the senior nurse's statement. MacAllister was transferring to the 8063rd? This was almost as good as getting that letter from her brother. Now, how was she going to let Colonel Flagg know? She doubted that she would be allowed near the phones in Klinger's office any time soon. Maybe she could convince Mulcahy to place the call. He was such a soft touch. Monica was suddenly in a much better mood.


	53. 53

FIFTY THREE

* * *

Captain Benjamin F. Pierce was getting frustrated. Earlier, when he had delivered the mail, none of the nurses were interested in his 'kiss the mail man for postage due' strategy. And then, when he had started his investigation into Bea Hunnicutt's photographs, none of his primary sources had any useful information.

Kellye and Klinger knew nothing about the pictures. They hadn't been left with Mulcahy for safekeeping. Potter wasn't keeping them in his safe, either.

He didn't want to interrupt the charge nurses during in their meeting with Blankenship. And the next time he had checked, Sarabeth had her 'do not disturb' sign outside her tent. Hawkeye had been tempted to wake up her; but uninterrupted sleep was such a rarity in this rotten place, that he didn't have the heart to disturb her.

Maybe Margaret was still awake. With an eager expression, Hawkeye Pierce set out in search of that particular nurse.

* * *

Margaret Houlihan was both tired and relieved. She was tired because of having only a few hours sleep before her meeting with Colonel Blankenship. She was relieved because of that same meeting. The head nurse of the 4077th had expected to be thoroughly chastised and severely reprimanded. Instead, the colonel had handed out compliments to her and to her nurses. And, because she had been satisfied with their record keeping abilities, she had not stayed as long as she had originally planned. Houlihan was especially thankful for that small blessing.

Now, all she had to do was inform Colonel Potter of Blankenship's intended plan of action. She also wanted to express her gratitude to Potter, Mulcahy and Winchester for putting in a 'good word' for her. Even Klinger deserved some credit. And then she could get some sleep before taking over the ward duty in post-op #2.

Just as she was about to enter the commander's office, Captain Pierce called to her. Waiting for him to catch up with her, Major Houlihan looked at the tall, dark-haired doctor. As usual, he was wearing his purple bath robe over his fatigues and needed a shave. It was a good thing that Colonel Blankenship had missed seeing him and his typical disregard for military decorum.

The major shook her head in resignation. He was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

"Margaret, just the angel of mercy I wanted to see." The surgeon sauntered over to the woman. "I have a letter for you. What will you give me in exchange for delivering it to you?" The man asked as he leered at the nurse.

"I'll give you a black eye, if you don't give it to me," Houlihan replied. She added, "Pierce, I don't have time for any of your ridiculous attention-getting ploys."

Hawkeye grinned at her. "So, when will you have time?" He asked. "I'll come back then." Seeing her glowering expression, he handed her the letter. "By the way," he tried to sound casual, "did Sarabeth mention anything about receiving some pictures from home?"

"That was not something that came up in our discussion with Colonel Blankenship," the major replied. She stepped around the man who was blocking the entrance. "Now, out of my way, Captain," she ordered as she reached for the door handle. "Or I'll flatten you."

"Certainly, milady," the man bowed and gestured for her to enter the office. "If she does tell you about those photos, let me know, will you?" Pierce called as she closed the door.

He frowned. Now what? The only other person who might know something was Charles. Was he desperate enough to face Winchester's wrath while he was on duty? Hawkeye grinned to himself. He was always ready to irritate 'His Pompousness'. That was one of his sworn duties in this outfit. Looking forward to the confrontation, he entered the hospital ward.

* * *

Major Winchester and Lieutenant Thompson were sitting at the desk in the corner of the room. Both were looking at their stateside letters. The older surgeon scowled as Hawkeye approached. "Still playing post man, Pierce?" He asked and then returned to his reading.

"Just long enough to put you in a crate and ship you to P'yŏngyang, Charles."

"Practically any place would be preferable to here," the major replied. "Or even better, package yourself and I'll have Klinger send you there, first class."

Hawkeye pulled a chair over to where his fellow New Englander was sitting. "Tell me everything you know about the pictures that Sarabeth got today," he demanded as he straddled his chair.

"What is this: your Colonel Flagg imitation?" The older man asked. "You need to add more intimidation to your presentation." In an effort to get away from the Chief Surgeon,

Charles Winchester walked over to the nearest patient. He picked up the medical chart hanging at the end of the bed. Making notations on the record, he then moved to the next bed.

"I want to know what B J's mother sent to Sarabeth." Hawkeye stated as he followed beside him.

Paying absolutely no heed to the other doctor, Winchester continued his walk down the rows of beds, examining each medical record, silently.

Tired of being ignored, Hawkeye said, "Come on, Charles; answer me! You lost you hair…not your ears. I have to know! What did B J's mother send to Sarabeth?"

Exasperated, the on-duty surgeon methodically replaced the cap on his pen and inserted the writing instrument into his lab coat pocket. Glaring at the other physician, he replied, in haughty distain, "Pierce, I realize that it is difficult for your amoeboid brain to comprehend; however, I haven't the faintest idea what you are babbling about."

Winchester continued, "I have neither spoken to, nor seen, Lieutenant MacAllister since the end of the OR session. In addition, even if I knew what you were talking about, I would never divulge that information to you. And now, be a good protozoan and ooze back to your primordial Swamp and leave me alone!"

"Protozoan?" Hawkeye drew himself to his full height. He adjusted his favorite robe around his lanky frame and replied regally, "I'll have you know, sir, that I am a highly-evolved, multi-cellular Swamp denizen." He added with a grin, "Never mind, Charles. Since we're working the same shift, I'll just ask her myself."

"Heaven help the poor woman," the major stated. To the other doctor, he pointed at the door. "Out!" He commanded.

"Tell Sarabeth I'll be a few minutes late, Major Charles E. histolytica." Still smiling, Hawkeye Pierce left the post-op ward. Since he knew MacAllister would report to her shift on time, maybe he'd have a few minutes to search her quarters.

* * *

On her way to the hospital building, detouring by the Swamp, Sarabeth MacAllister called to the surgeon inside the tent and banged at the entrance with her boot, "B J! Open the door, please. Quick!"

Hearing her, Hunnicutt hastily put down the letter he was reading. Taking some of the items from her arms, he helped her bring them inside. Placing the phonograph on the table, she grinned at the man from California. "Thanks, the records were starting to slide off. And, if I scratched any of them, Charles would probably be committing Texicide."

Returning her smile, B J asked, "Did you have to bring them back? We were actually enjoying some peace and quiet around here…for a change."

Sarabeth took the albums from him and set them beside the player. "You know, everyone complains about what he listens to. But the selections he brings over to the ranch house are always nice ones."

"That's because he likes you better than he likes us," Captain Hunnicutt grinned through his mustache.

"That's true," she laughed. "But that's because I don't drive him as near as crazy as y'all do."

It was B J's turn to laugh, "That's true, too. Care to hear the latest thing Hawk's got planned?"

"I probably should. However, I've got to report for post-op duty." MacAllister removed a paper from her shirt pocket. "Here's the letter your mother sent with her pictures."

"Um, about those pictures…." the man began.

The nurse shook her head. "Sorry, B J; you don't get to see them, either."

"Can you at least tell me how bad they are? So I'll know how deep to dig that hole?"

"What hole?"

"The one I'm going to crawl into when I get embarrassed by those photographs."

With a big smile on her face, the redheaded woman informed him, "Those pictures are cute, B J…_really cute_. I reckon you're going to need a hole at least six inches deeper than you are tall."

"That cute, huh?" Hunnicutt was dismayed. He was right. He was never going to be able to live this down.

* * *

Inside the main post-op ward, Lieutenant MacAllister followed beside Major Winchester. She read each chart and wrote down his remarks as he gave his shift reports on every patient. He stepped away from one bed and spoke in a low voice, "Keep an eye on this one. He's developing a fever and there's some abdominal distension. I've increased the antibiotics and ordered cold packs. Coming in with that much damage, some small nick to the bowels may have been missed."

"He's the one with multiple bayonet stabbings to the belly?" The nurse asked. Her voice was equally as soft.

"Some of General Zheng He's best work, no doubt," the surgeon answered. He sighed at the viciousness of that injury. "That's certainly not a wound one would expect to see in Boston."

"Not in Big Oak, either. I've occasionally seen someone gored by a steer," the Texan remarked. "But never anything like that."

Completing their patient inspections, the two moved over to the nurse's desk. Lieutenant MacAllister smiled at the man. "I brought your record player and records back to the Swamp, Major. Thanks for letting Colonel Blankenship listen to them. And thank you for intervening on our behalf."

"You and Margaret work very hard around here," the officer informed her. "I see no reason for either of you to be blamed for another nurse's…" he searched for a polite word, "…inadequacies."

"And now, my dear, I feel that I should warn you," the man stated helpfully, "Watch out for Pierce. He seems determined to find out about some photographs that were sent to you. He has been badgering me. He will, undoubtedly, hound you, this entire shift, as well."

"_Hound_ me?" She grinned at him. "Sounds like he's being very _dog-_matic about those pictures."

Charles Winchester answered with a small grin of his own, "He is no doubt _paw_-ing through your belongings as we speak."

Laughing in delight at his choice of words, Sarabeth said, "Then he may be _flea_-ing the ranch house pretty quick. Ernie was asleep when I left. And he _bites_ first and asks questions later."

* * *

When Captain Pierce appeared in the hospital building a few minutes later, he was limping slightly.

"_Dog_-gone it, Doctor Pierce. Are you all right?" The nurse asked. She glanced at the older surgeon in amusement. His expression was calm and composed, although she could see the hint of a smile.

"I'm fine," the man replied nonchalantly. "Nothing a few stitches and a tetanus shot won't fix."

Despite his protests, Sarabeth MacAllister insisted on checking Hawkeye's leg. He had only a red mark on his ankle. "What did you do? Bump into something?" She questioned with an innocent expression.

"Or something," Pierce replied. He didn't offer an explanation.

"Since there is no medical emergency here," Major Winchester spoke. "Let's review the patient charts so that I can return to the hovel that I unwillingly, and most assuredly only temporarily, call home."

After the physicians exchanged information, Sarabeth followed Winchester to the door. Smiling, she whispered, "If I don't get Hawkeye to confess, I'll find out what happened from Ernie."

The man was amused. "You expect your canine to communicate with you?"

"Of course," the red-haired woman smiled. Seeing the mischievous glint in her green eyes, Charles Winchester braced himself for her next words, "Dogs do carry _tales_, you know."

The major shook his head in resignation. She was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.


	54. 54

FIFTY FOUR

* * *

Feb 20th: 1700 hours

A woman's soft laugh woke him. Army private David Stockton looked around in confusion. Was that Amy? Then he remembered where he was. She was back home. And he was in a MASH unit, with two broken arms, a bullet hole in one shoulder and another one in his leg.

A redheaded nurse was sitting between his bed and another patient's cot. At his movements, she folded the letter she was reading and smiled at him, "I'm sorry, Private," she apologized sincerely, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay, ma'am," he smiled back at her. "For a minute I was back home; listening to my kid sister laugh. That's a good thing to wake up to." He frowned and twitched his face. "Uh, ma'am, could you scratch my nose? I don't think I can reach it."

"Sure." The woman did as he requested. "You're listed as being able to have solid food. Would you like something to eat?"

"Is your mess any better than field rations?"

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I'll see what's on the menu, if you like."

"That's all right," the man replied. "I'm not real hungry. Could I have some water?"

"Coming right up." The nurse got up and moved to the desk area. She spoke to the doctor who was sitting there as she poured a glass of water for the injured man.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness since he woke up in the recovery room. When he wasn't sleeping, or staring up at the ceiling, Stockton had been watching the two of them. When they were discussing one of the patients, their expressions were serious and concerned. When they were just conversing, they were smiling and teasing each other.

The dark-haired doctor kept pestering her about some photographs. And the nurse had sidestepped him every time. The soldier liked their friendly banter. They made him feel safe. And he hadn't experienced that feeling since his first day in Korea.

Still smiling, the woman brought the glass to him. She helped him drink. After making him comfortable on the cot, she asked, "Is there anything else that you would like?"

"Could you tell me about your letter? If you don't mind," he asked, hoping she wouldn't be offended. "You sure sounded like you were enjoying it."

"It's from a friend of mine," the woman replied as she sat beside his bed. "He's part of the British Commonwealth Division that's assigned to this sector. He was telling me about the time a kangaroo got into his house and how his mother was trying to get it out before it completely wrecked the place."

"I've never seen a kangaroo," the man said, "except in pictures."

"Neither have I," the Texan replied with a grin. "But Mitch says that when this 'police action' is over, he's going to take me on a tour of Australia. We're going to visit Sydney, and Wollongong and Canberra and just about every other town in New South Wales. And then we're going into the bush to see the kangaroos and wallabies and all the other critters he's told me about."

With a smile on his face, David Stockton listened to her words. She sounded just like Amy when she was excited about something. He wondered what his little sister was doing right now.

"And then," MacAllister continued, "he's going to take me to Ayers Rock. It's this huge red rock in the middle of nowhere. The aborigines who live there call it a 'special place' and there's…." The woman stopped as the man in the next bed began to thrash around. Instantly, she was back on duty.

She moved to the bedside and restrained the man while soothing him with her calm drawl, "Easy. Easy now, Lynch. It's all right. You're in a hospital. Sh-h-h, you're safe." The nurse continued to talk softly to the soldier as she took her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his heart beat.

"Is he going to be all right?" Stockton asked. "He was on the stretcher across from me in the ambulance and there sure seemed to be a lot of his blood dripping onto the floor."

The red-haired nurse continued to monitor the other man's vital signs. When she finished, she looked back the private. Her expression was neutral, "He could be better, that's for sure and for certain. But the doctors here are the best! So he's got a good chance of pulling through. Excuse me." She stood to talk to the surgeon on duty who had hurried over to them.

Hawkeye Pierce frowned as he looked over the information that she was writing on the medical chart. "Pulse is up, heart rate is up. His fever's spiked again; what's his latest WBC count?" Thumbing for that page, the Chief Surgeon frowned again. "Look's like we're going to have to open him up again. Damn!" He swore in frustration. "Who's on call this shift?"

"Campbell has anesthesia. Parnelli has surgery," Lieutenant MacAllister replied.

"No." The doctor shook his head. "I want you assisting me. Parnelli can take over in here."

'Stafford!" MacAllister called to the medical corpsman who had entered the ward room with a pot of coffee in his hand. "Tell Parnelli to report to me…immediately! You have my permission to drag her over here if she puts up an argument. Tell Campbell to go scrub. And let Major Houlihan know of the change in schedule."

She looked at the man from Maine. "Do you want to let Doctor Hunnicutt know?"

Hawkeye hesitated. B J had performed the original surgery. "Yes, tell him that I need his cheesy mustache in the OR right away."

* * *

"I don't see how I missed that," Captain Hunnicutt was saying as the surgical team worked on the injured man.

"I don't see how you could have seen it," the Chief Surgeon replied. "There must be over a hundred separate perforations to his bowels. This man doesn't have any intestines; he just has sieves in here."

"127 nicks, holes and slices," B J replied. "I counted them as I sutured."

"It's a good thing," Pierce commented, "that 128 is his lucky number."

* * *

After the injured soldier was returned to the recovery room, the surgical nurse helped the doctors with their top scrubs. "Do you give up, Hawk?" She asked as she tossed his garment into the laundry hamper. "On trying to find those pictures?"

Hawkeye Pierce took a heroic stance. "I have just begun my search. I'll leave no stone unturned, no person unquestioned, no hiding place uncovered. I will prevail." He announced with confidence.

"Care to make a bet on that?" Sarabeth MacAllister grinned.


	55. 55

FIFTY FIVE

* * *

Feb 21st: 1100 hours

"All aboard the Evac express!" Sergeant Klinger was calling out as the less critical patients from the medical unit were being loaded onto the ambulance bus. "All aboard!"

Standing beside the last litter, Lieutenant MacAllister smiled at the man who was waiting to be lifted inside, "Looks like your train is fixin' to leave the station, Private. You'll be at the 425th hospital for about three days. Then you'll be sent to Tokyo General to completely recover."

"I was hoping to see Tokyo," the soldier replied. "Except," he grinned and carefully lifted one of his arm casts in the air, "I was hoping to see more than just the base hospital."

"You'll be up and about in no time," the nurse assured him. With a mischievous grin, she advised, "When you decide to go out on the town, don't decide to try any octopus! It's worse than the breakfast we had this morning."

Trying to resist a shudder, the man nodded. "Thanks for the warning. And thanks for writing those letters to my grandmother and my sister."

"Glad to help. I'll make sure they get on the first supply truck that happens down this section of track. Good luck, Stockton."

"Say hello to the kangaroos," he called out as his stretcher was carried onto the ambulance bus. The solider enjoyed hearing the nurse's laughter.

Inside the vehicle, Captains Hunnicutt and Pierce examined each man, making certain their stretchers were secured and that the men were medically ready for transport.

"Well, Private," the Chief Surgeon remarked as he inspected his patient one final time. "Looks like you've got a ticket out of here. Lucky you."

"Thanks for patching me up, Doc."

Smiling at the man, the dark-haired physician replied, "It's the key to our tailoring service: add a few shoulder pads here, a few tucks and stitches there." He stopped in sudden realization. "The key! That's it! She's hidden those pictures in her footlocker."

Moving towards the exit, Hawkeye Pierce called out to his tent mate, "Come along, Watson, the game's afoot!"

"Be right there, Holmes," B J Hunnicutt replied with a grin.

David Stockton asked, "Why is he so obsessed with those pictures?"

The man with the mustache shrugged his shoulders. He replied with both amusement and with chagrin, "Partially because it's a distraction from this place and partially because of the embarrassment potential."

"If she's anything like my little sister, it won't be that easy to find them."

"No, it won't be," the officer echoed his sentiments. "And that's what makes it so entertaining…for the rest of us."

* * *

After waving goodbye to the people on the bus, Sarabeth MacAllister walked beside the company clerk who was returning to his office. "I have some letters for the mail sack, Klinger. And B J's quilt is ready to be sent back home, too. I'll bring them over in a few minutes."

"I'll make sure they get loaded on the truck," the man from Toledo told her. "Assuming one shows up." Changing the topic, he asked, "How's Corporal Lynch? I heard the doctors had to go back in and operate some more last night. He's from Ohio, too, you know."

"Your fellow Ohioan was doing better this morning. Y'all can probably have a reunion conversation later today."

"I'll stop by. Hey, maybe he's eaten at Packo's! We can compare our favorite dishes. The ones I like the best are the Hungarian dogs with hot mustard and lots of peppers and onions; or…maybe the franks with chili and cheese; or…maybe the brats with sauerkraut…." Max Klinger was practically salivating at the thought of the restaurant's selections. He inhaled deeply and tapped his impressive snout. "This nose can smell those tantalizing aromas all the way across the ocean!"

The Texan laughed, "Sounds like we'll be ordering everything on the menu when I come to visit you."

"You're going to love those hot dogs!" He promised. Hearing a growl from the small terrier that was trotting alongside them, Klinger looked down and said, "Don't worry, Ernie. They aren't made from real dogs. At least, I'm pretty sure they're not."

* * *

Walking inside the mess tent, Major Winchester saw Lieutenant MacAllister. She waved to him and he moved to the empty seat beside her. Smiling, she asked, "Would you like a cup of good, fresh coffee, sir?"

"I'd love some."

She handed him her cup. "Here, have mine. I haven't had any of it, yet."

"Thank you, my dear." Accepting the mug, he smiled at her and then grimaced as he tasted the drink. "This is _appalling_! Sarabeth, I thought you said this coffee was good."

"Not exactly," the woman grinned at his expression. "I asked if you wanted some good, fresh coffee. I didn't say this was good. Or fresh. I'm not even sure that it _is_ coffee." She explained with a grin.

Shaking his head at her teasing, Charles Winchester conceded, "Those are the exact words that you stated. And I suppose I should have been expecting something like that."

"Yes, you should have," the Texan answered with one of her smiles.

The man pushed his cup away. "Speaking of expecting something; by any chance, have the colonel and Margaret cancelled their plans to play cards with us this afternoon? I've selected some of the most wonderful waltzes for us…and, I thought…," he added in a low voice, "…we could dance again."

"I'd like that; but Major Houlihan was telling me earlier today how much she was looking forward to this evening," MacAllister replied. "Sorry, Charles, looks like we'll be playing Stomp, instead."

The doctor couldn't completely to hide his disappointment, "Some other time, then. Nonetheless, it will be enjoyable to spend a few hours with you…and to win every hand, of course."

She arched an eyebrow at him, "What makes you think you're going to win?"

"A Winchester always wins," he replied with his usual conceit, tempered by a slight grin, "We…." The man frowned as he saw who was approaching, "Brace yourself, the moronic misfits of MASH are here."

"Why, thank you, Charles, for that great introduction," Hawkeye Pierce announced as he and B J Hunnicutt sat on the opposite bench. The man from Maine assumed a very bad British accent, "And, now, my unsuspecting suspect, it's time for the inspector's inquiry. And I warn you, that I," he patted his chest, importantly, "Sherlock Pierce, will know if you are telling a falsehood."

"How?" Is her nose going to grow longer?" Charles Winchester sneered.

"No, but you'll get even balder," Pierce retorted, "If that's possible."

"Gentlemen!" MacAllister warned. She asked, with a grin, "What is it you want, detective?"

"Inspector," the man corrected. "Tell me where you've hidden the keys."

"Keys?" The young woman batted her eyes. She inquired, innocently, "What keys? There's the Florida Keys…and piano keys…and…."

Winchester interrupted, "Look, there's a mon-key sitting across from you."

"And a _baboon_ crouched next to you," Hawkeye replied.

"All right, y'all," the Texan warned again, "Don't go _bananas_ on me."

"They can't help it, Sarabeth," B J chuckled. "You're the _gorilla_ of their dreams."

Grinning and shaking her head in disgust, the nurse looked up as the secondary company clerk entered and called to her. "Have you come to rescue me, Goldman?" She asked.

"I don't know how much of a rescue it is, Lieutenant," the corporal replied, "But Colonel Potter just got off the phone with Colonel Blankenship. And he wants to talk to you and Major Houlihan about your transfer, right away!"

"On my way," the woman acknowledged. She left the tent; leaving behind three surgeons who were staring at each other in shock.

"Transfer?"

"What transfer?"

"Haven't you heard, sirs?" Monica Parnelli walked by their table. "She's transferring to the 8063rd…effective immediately."

_A/N: Thanks to 'I Keep Goldfish…' for the use of those nice lines._


	56. 56

FIFTY SIX

* * *

"PIERCE!" Charles Emerson Winchester bellowed. "This is entirely your fault! You and those picayune pictures! You have been mindlessly--and endlessly--harassing her about them! Now you've driven her away! You…."

"My fault! You're the one always hanging around…."

"Guys," Captain Hunnicutt spoke. He was watching Lieutenant Parnelli flounce away from their table. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. "Guys!" He said in a louder voice. "Let's take it outside and discuss this…calmly…okay?"

With a great deal of effort, the man from California managed to push and drag both of the would-be combatants outside the mess tent. While neither man was actually inclined to use his fists; they were energetically flinging insults at the other.

Inside the mess tent, the rest of the people crowded around the mesh screens to watch the show. "My money's on Hawkeye," one of them remarked.

"Winchester looks mad enough to take him," an enlisted man noted. "Go get him, Major!" He shouted in encouragement.

The camp priest, noticing the commotion, hurried over, "Goodness me, what's going on here?"

"Father, help!!!" B J called out. "Ring the bell for the end of the round!"

"Oh my," the priest waded into the fray. He grasped Hawkeye Pierce by one arm and an ear and pulled him away. Hunnicutt managed to grab both of Winchester's arms. They couldn't stop the shouting match, however. Over their noise, Mulcahy said, "Let's get these mischief makers to the Swamp before I have to give both of them a few boxing lessons."

* * *

Inside his office, Colonel Potter was explaining his previous telephone conversation to his two charge nurses. "Blankenship wants to go to the 8063rd for a couple of days to instruct them on how the reports should be done. She wants you," the commanding officer looked at the red-haired nurse sitting across from him, "to go with her."

"After about a week," Potter continued, "she wants you to go back for a few days just to see if they are actually following her guidelines as instructed. She's planning an unannounced inspection for their unit after that."

"So, it's only a temporary transfer, sir," Sarabeth MacAllister noted in relief.

"Yes. Although she mentioned that Parker did ask for you on a more permanent basis. Both of us denied that request."

"Good!" Major Houlihan spoke. "If Parker wants someone else to do all of her paperwork, let her find someone…besides my second-in-command nurse. Now then sir, what did the colonel say about getting a replacement for MacAllister while she's gone? And it better not be some nurse fresh from the states!" The blonde charge nurse declared. "We don't have time to train anyone who's never worked in a MASH unit before."

The commander nodded in agreement. "She said she would reassign one of the nurses from either the 8055th or the 1034th to work with us. And, Blankenship also said, that when the two of you get back, she has a meeting scheduled in Seoul to find out exactly why we haven't been given the additional nurses we were promised."

The lieutenant asked, "When is all of this going to take place, sir?"

At her question, the older man hesitated, "She plans for the two of you to drive over to the 8063rd… tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The women repeated in dismay.

"Blankenship is determined to have everything in place before the main Chinese attack." Colonel Potter explained. "I agree with that. I don't want you traveling on these roads when there's any fighting going on."

MacAllister shrugged, "That does make sense. Well, since everything's still packed from the colonel's inspection, it won't take me long to get ready. Switching gears, now, sir," the Texan smiled at her commander. "You know, we were planning to have the February and March Birthday celebrations the first week of March. Do you reckon we could have the party when I get back? I don't know if I can fend off Captain Pierce any longer than that."

Potter smiled. "I hear he has been making a pest of himself. He even asked to inspect the contents of my safe."

"And, he has cross-examined all of my nurses, too. Some of them more thoroughly than others, I might add," Margaret Houlihan stated.

"Can you get everything ready for the party before tomorrow?" the colonel questioned.

The younger woman thought for a few moments, "We only have three birthday celebrants: you, B J and Klinger. And I already have all of the things from your families. I may have to do some finagling to get the cake…but…we should be able to have everything ready, sir."

"We'll plan on that, then." Leaning forward in his chair, Potter smiled, "Now about the picture that Mildred sent…."

"Don't worry, Colonel," the woman replied with a grin of her own, "Mrs. Potter sent a perfectly respectfully one of you."

Hiding his relief, he said, "Of course she did. I never had any doubts…"

He was interrupted by a loud knock. Sergeant Klinger opened the door and announced, "Sorry for disturbing you, sir. But Father Mulcahy asks you to come over to the Swamp. He says he has two juvenile delinquents who need a stern talking-to from the school principal."

"On my way," Colonel Potter answered with a sigh.


	57. 57

FIFTY SEVEN

* * *

The two nurses looked at each other after Colonel Potter's hasty retreat. Margaret Houlihan shook her head in exasperation, "Whatever is going on at the Swamp; I'm sure Pierce is involved."

Sarabeth MacAllister grinned, "More than likely. Well," she held the door open for the head nurse, "since I'm moving out tomorrow; and since the party has been moved up, I'd best get moving, myself."

"Let the nurses know I'm calling a staff meeting in 30 minutes," Houlihan instructed. "I want to discuss schedule changes and sleeping arrang…."

"Max, are you all right?" MacAllister's concerned voice cut across the major's words. The company clerk's face was pasty. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and his features were twisted with pain. He clutched at his abdomen.

"Stomach cramps," Sergeant Klinger answered through clenched lips. "They just hit."

"Did you eat anything unusual?" The head nurse asked and then amended her question, "Anything more unusual than usual?"

The man nodded, "Some spicy stew at lunch." He grabbed at his stomach again. "Sorry, gotta run!" Literally racing out of the office, the clerk headed towards the latrines.

Standing outside the hospital building, the nurses watched him reach his destination. "That's all we need…a food poisoning epidemic. We'd better check around," the major said, "to see if anyone else is sick. I'll let Colonel Potter know."

* * *

The commander of the hospital unit was glaring at the two doctors who were sitting on their cots. After hearing their explanations, the old soldier had a few choice words to say to the men. Winding down his blistering chastisement, Potter added, "…and my two highest ranking surgeons decide to do their Laurel and Hardy impressions in front of the whole camp! And you consider yourselves intelligent men!!"

"I tried to tell them it didn't sound right, Colonel," B J Hunnicutt spoke up. "Sarabeth wouldn't ask for a transfer just because she was annoyed at Hawkeye."

"She is leaving, Hunnicutt," the colonel informed the doctor, "tomorrow, as a matter of fact."

"What?!" All three of the surgeons shouted in surprise.

Potter held up his hand for silence. "It's only a temporary assignment. If either of you clowns had bothered to confirm your information, we could have been spared the vaudeville act."

Still angry, the senior officer continued, "We have enough fighting out there; we don't need any fighting in here. Except for post-op duty, both of you are confined to quarters until tomorrow morning. And," Potter warned, "If I hear another peep out of either of you, both of you will be scrubbing bedpans until the Fourth of July! Do I make myself clear?"

He stared at each man as he called their name, "Winchester, Pierce; are we clear on this?"

Reluctantly, the men acknowledged their commander's orders. Potter nodded, "Good!" Storming out of the tent, he shook his head in disgust. He decided to go to the corral and visit Sophie for a few minutes. At times, it seemed like she was the only one around here that had any _horse_ sense.

"Colonel, wait, sir!" Major Houlihan called to him.

Stifling a sigh, the man turned to face the charge nurse. Sometimes it felt like he was in the middle of a three-ring circus. What had gone wrong, now?

* * *

"So where are they?" Monica Parnelli asked impatiently. Inside the mess tent, the women were waiting for their charge nurses to arrive.

"They'll be here," Christie Baker answered. "They do have other responsibilities, you know."

"All I know is that I'm tired of waiting," the woman retorted. "Hey, maybe, MacAllister's getting in trouble. Hawkeye and Major Winchester were fighting about her, after all."

"Which you instigated," Jeanette Thompson confronted her. "I heard what you said to them."

"So?" Monica shrugged. "I didn't tell them to have a fight in the middle of the mess tent."

"But, you did tell them a lie," Thompson persisted.

Slyly, Parnelli replied, "You sure about that?"

* * *

"…and as soon as she gets here…." the major was continuing her talk to the 4077th nursing personnel, "we'll have…."

Monica Parnelli had given the other nurses a smug 'I told you' smile when Houlihan had announced MacAllister's travel plans. Disappointed when she heard the assignment was only temporary, she had quit listening to the charge nurse.

Still, the Texan was going to be away from this outfit. Would Colonel Flagg want to know that? Would he really toss a live grenade in her bed if he didn't want to know that? Yes, he probably would. She shuddered. But, what would he do to her if he found out that she hadn't told him? Monica didn't even want to think about that possibility.

"There were five other people who were brave enough…and foolish enough…to try that dish. So far, however; it's only Sergeant Klinger and Corporal Avara who are ill. Per the colonel's orders, those two have been housed in the VIP tent. He doesn't want them around the more critical patients in the hospital," Houlihan was now stating. "So, we'll have two wards open. Kellye, return to your shift in post-op # 1; when you relieve Goldman, he'll take over the company clerk duties. Smith, you'll have the other…."

* * *

After their meeting was adjourned, Lieutenant MacAllister was talking with Nurse Kellye. "Sure, Sarabeth," the dark-haired woman agreed, "I'll be glad to take care of Ernie."

"Thanks, Kellye. I'll bring over his food and water bowls in the morning."

Lieutenant Parnelli hurried past them. With Klinger not in his office, and before Tanakhamara relieved Goldman…maybe she could get a call through without anyone knowing about it.

* * *

It was dark before Lieutenant MacAllister was able to return to her quarters. "What a day, pup!" The woman remarked as she reached down to scratch her pet behind his ears. As soon as Monica Parnelli had moved out of hearing range, Kellye had told her about the fight between Winchester and Pierce. She had also told her who had caused it. "I swear, Ernie," MacAllister muttered, "the very second this war is over, I'm going to stomp her so hard they're going to need a spoon to scrape her off the ground!"

After talking to Kellye, she had then resumed her meeting with the senior officers. And, although she had offered to find a fourth hand for their card game, both Colonel Potter and Major Houlihan had declined. The colonel had said that, with Klinger out of commission, he'd have to get the transfer paperwork together.

The major had said that she wanted to go over the Army regulations for transferring nurses between units. She knew what stunts the 8063rd head nurse would try to pull and she wanted her second-in-command to have clear guidelines before she set foot in that hospital.

Besides, both of them admitted, they had been waiting to 'beat the socks off Winchester' and since he was unavailable, they'd take up that challenge some other time.

Next, MacAllister discussed the cake with Igor Stimenski. The assistant cook hadn't been certain that he could get the extra baking supplies in time. He did swear that he'd have something edible for the party…especially after she offered him a container full of brownies as encouragement.

She had stopped by the VIP tent check on their newest patients. The corporal was moaning on his cot. The sergeant was recovering from another bout of vomiting and hadn't felt like talking. Klinger did ask that she come back, in the morning…if he was still alive…because he had something he wanted to give her. MacAllister had assured him that he would be alive in the morning and that she would visit him before she left. She had whispered a heart-felt 'good luck' to their duty nurse, Sandra Smith, who nodded in agreement. She was going to need it.

She had also talked to the camp priest to ask if she could bring her footlocker over to his tent for storage. The good man had readily agreed. The lieutenant made an appointment to see him in early in the morning.

The Texan's last visit was to the Swamp. Glad to see that Captain Hunnicutt was already on duty; the woman had stared at both of the men. With hands on hips she had asked, "Are y'all studying to be half-wits, or something?"

Hawkeye Pierce shrugged, "Don't blame me. He started it."

Swinging her attention to the other surgeon, Sarabeth raised an eyebrow at him, "Charles…you started it?"

With dignity the man replied, "I admit I may have acted injudiciously. However, I was alarmed that his drivel had driven you away. And I was disconcerted to discover that you would leave…without telling me."

"Yeah," Pierce piped in, "you weren't even going to say goodbye."

Her expression softening, the woman smiled at him. B J had told her how hurt Hawkeye had been when his former tent mate had left for the States without any word. "Of course, I would say goodbye to you, Hawk," she replied in a gentle manner. She turned to the other man, "And to you, too, Charles. That's a MacAllister promise to both of y'all. But, I didn't even know for sure that I was going, until the Colonel told me in our meeting today."

Her tone now sterner, she addressed both surgeons, "And, here's another MacAllister promise: the next time y'all actually believe anything Parnelli tells you, I'm going to take a broom to both of y'all! Y'all hear me?"

* * *

Now sitting in her chair, with her feet resting on a packing crate, Sarabeth took down her braid and began to brush her hair. She spoke to her companion who was wagging his tail, "Ernie, I still need to do something about those blasted pictures. Where are I am going to hide them while I'm gone…to keep our nosey Hawkeye from finding them? He's as sneaky as some of my brothers."

With a happy smile, she thought about some of the tricks she and her siblings had played on each other; and then recalled one prank in particular. "That's it!" She leapt to her feet and hastily pulled her hair into a pony tail. "Come on, pup. I bet everything we need is in the storeroom!"

* * *

At his desk, Colonel Flagg looked over the personnel roster of the 8063rd MASH unit. The commander was weak and ineffectual…like Blake, from the 4077th, had been. Although, he had to acknowledge, Lieutenant Colonel Blake had shown some backbone at times. But Woodridge was regular Army; he'd follow orders without question.

And then there was Major Judy Parker; or 'Parallel Parker', as she was known to several high-ranking officers. Removing a couple of compromising photographs from her file, Flagg was certain she could be persuaded to cooperate. He'd pay her a visit tonight.


	58. 58

FIFTY EIGHT

* * *

Feb 22nd: 0700 hours

Holding a book in one hand, Lieutenant MacAllister knocked at the door leading the priest's tent. At his soft-spoken words of welcome, she walked inside. Following behind her, Private Starr carefully set down her footlocker. She thanked the enlisted man who left as Father Mulcahy offered her a chair.

"Thanks for seeing me so early, sir," Sarabeth said.

"I'm always available to those in need, my child. Now, what can I do for you?"

MacAllister indicated the storage container. "In case y'all have to bug-out while I'm at the 8063rd, I'd like for you to make sure this gets on a truck. Unless," she added quickly, "y'all need the room for a patient. Then it can be left behind."

"I'll see that it gets on a truck. But why not leave it with one of the nurses?" The man asked.

"I would, except, their top priority will be to take care of the patients. They may not have time to do it. And I know you're reliable."

"It's good to know you have _faith_ in me," he told her with a kind smile.

"Well, you are in the faith business, aren't you?" MacAllister smiled in return. She added, "I do have something to confess, sir."

"Yes, of course. Let me get my raiment," Mulcahy began and then saw her grin. "It's not that kind of a confession, is it?"

"No, sir. I'm setting you up to be burglarized." She again looked at her footlocker, "I really would like for you to see that it gets on a truck--if the need arises. But, the real reason it's here is to teach Hawkeye Pierce a lesson."

"I'm sorry, Sarabeth, I don't follow you."

"Inside here," MacAllister said, "there's a small box labeled: '_birthday gifts and pictures'_. That box does have the things that I'm giving to the colonel, B J and Klinger. And, there is an envelope with something in it…but not necessarily what he's expecting."

Mulcahy nodded in understanding, "It does not have the photographs that he has been searching for."

"Right. My Bible," she indicated the book she held in her hand, "is always on display on my desk or my table because I promised Mama that I would keep it near and read it often. There's also an envelope in it that's labeled: '_Last Will and Testament_'. It does have my will in it. Crockett made me write one when I signed up for this tour of duty."

"Tucked away inside that document, are the pictures that Hawkeye's been so desperate to find. That's where they've been the whole time. Unlike some people in this camp, I knew that my Maine doctor wouldn't look in there."

"And just where did you learn this type of subterfuge, Lieutenant? From your brother in Army Intelligence?"

The woman grinned, "The very same one. Of course, he probably got the idea from '_The Purloined Letter' _by Edgar Allen Poe."

"I remember '_The Raven_' and '_Annabel Lee_', but not that one."

MacAllister explained, "It's about an incriminating letter that was stolen and was being used to blackmail the owner. The police searched the man's apartment and person several times but couldn't find it. Poe's detective spends five minutes in the thief's apartment and discovers it. The letter had been folded backwards, with an innocuous note written on the outside and positioned, in plain sight, on a board with postcards and other mail."

"I see," the priest's eyes were sparkling in amusement, "And what's in the envelope in the birthday box?"

"Rattlesnake eggs," replied the Texan with a wide grin. Seeing his puzzled look, she said, "It's similar to the fake can of peanuts with the 'snake' inside. If you touch the envelope, it'll start to rattle…just like a big old diamondback…and it will scare the beejeebers out of you. If you persist in opening it, there's a spring inside that will catch your fingers, like a mouse trap."

"So, I'm putting my Bible in my footlocker and locking it up. But I'm keeping the extra key in the lock. If Hawkeye can resist the temptation of breaking and entering, everything will be fine. If not…," MacAllister smiled in anticipation, "you may be hearing some words that should not be said in public."

"You may have to do some penance when you return, Lieutenant," Father Mulcahy warned.

"It'll be worth it, sir," the Texan stated. "However, if you'd rather not be a part of this practical joke, I'll leave all this with someone else."

"Far be it for me to ruin your jocularity," the cleric replied. "Perhaps a good sermon can result from this escapade." As the woman started to leave, Mulcahy stated, "Lieutenant, my prayers will go with you. I also have some extra St. Christopher medals. Would you like to have one? He is the patron saint of travelers."

"Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate that…and the prayers." She accepted the medallion and placed the chain around her neck.

* * *

"See, Sergeant," Lieutenant MacAllister cheerfully spoke to the company clerk who was sitting on the wheelchair. The nurse was pushing him across the compound towards his office. "I told you that you'd survive the night."

"I'm not so sure I have, ma'am," the man replied in misery. He closed his eyes and sank back in his seat with a groan.

Worried, she stopped to look at him, Sarabeth said, "Klinger, whatever you want to give me can wait."

"No, I want you to have it before you leave."

Once inside the commander's office, the woman greeted the assistant company clerk who was typing a report. "Good morning, Goldman. Taking over, I see."

"Morning, ma'am. I am getting more familiar with everything," the medic agreed.

"Just don't get too comfortable in my chair," Max Klinger warned.

"Corporal," Lieutenant MacAllister pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to the clerk, "as soon as you can, call my brother's outfit and let him know where I'm heading, will you? Here's the number. It's important that he be notified."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant." Goldman took the note. He placed it on top of a pile of other papers that were sitting on the corner of the desk. Setting a glass snow globe on the stack, he said, "I'll take care of it in just a minute. I have to get this report ready for the colonel to review, first."

"Thanks. Now then, Sergeant, what was it you wanted to give me?"

Standing shakily, with the nurse ready to assist him, the man from Toledo walked over to his sleeping area. Removing an item from his duffle bag, he presented the woman with a necklace with a large blue bead strung on it. "This is my amulet against the 'evil eye'. Just about every kid with even a drop of Mediterranean blood has one of these. I want you to take it with you."

The woman shook her head, "I can't take your protection."

"I only carried it with me because Ma insisted that I bring it. It doesn't match my uniform now. Although," the man admitted, "it did look terrific with my turquoise tea dress, with the tasteful swirl of printed lilacs around the bottom."

The Texan smiled in amusement, "I would have loved to see you in that outfit."

"It was lovely…especially with the hat I made to go with it," the sergeant agreed. "Now, to activate this, you have to spit on it; except Ma would box my ears if I spit in front of a lady. So…." Klinger placed his finger in his mouth and then rolled the dampened digit all over the bead.

"Then you have to place a curse on it; so that whoever tries to harm you gets smacked with the curse, instead. _May your camel always be obstinate; may your oasis always be dry; and may your shoes always be full of stones,_" the man intoned. He added with a smile, "And may you be hit with the same stuff I've been dealing with all night."

"I reckon that covers everything. Thanks, Max." Sarabeth accepted the necklace and slipped it over her head. "Between the padre's St. Christopher medal and your amulet, I feel safer already."

* * *

Stopping by the main post-op, Lieutenant MacAllister watched as Doctor Pierce talked with Corporal Lynch. She was relieved to know that he was going to recover. For a while there, they hadn't been certain he was going to make it. The young soldier was laughing at some remark the dark-haired surgeon made. He quickly replied with one of his own. Hawkeye Pierce was now the one laughing.

Major Houlihan, the ward nurse for this shift, was also watching the exchange between the doctor and his patient. She caught MacAllister's eye and smiled, briefly. Although she tried to maintain a strict military exterior, Margaret Houlihan knew how important it was for people to be able to relax and enjoy themselves. She also knew how fleeing it was in this place.

"Are you ready?" The head nurse asked.

"As ready am I'm going to be," the other woman replied. "My satchel's packed. Ernie and his belongings have been moved to Kellye's tent. My belongings have been moved to Father Mulcahy's tent. I still need to talk to Captain Pierce and Major Winchester. After that, I'll just be waiting on Colonel Blankenship to arrive."

"I don't expect you to have any problems with Parker while Blankenship is there. It's when you go back by yourself that you're going to have trouble with her. We'll go over the list I made of what specifically you will, and won't have to do, before then."

When Doctor Pierce finished with his examinations, he motioned to the woman who had been waiting for him. Together, they walked to the end of the hospital ward. After hearing an unexpected noise from the woman's vicinity, Hawkeye asked, "Excuse me…but did you just go 'clank'?"

"It's all the jewelry I'm wearing," MacAllister noted. She touched her shirt. "In addition to my dog tags, my footlocker key," she emphasized that word, "and my bluebonnet necklace, I've got on a St. Christopher's metal and an amulet to ward off all evil."

Laughing once again, Hawkeye Pierce, said, "I'd offer you my lucky rabbit's foot. Except…it wasn't all that lucky for the rabbit."

"Thanks but no thanks. I'm beginning to feel like Jacob Marley's ghost anyway."

"Listen, when you get to the 8063rd," Pierce became more serious, "don't expect too much. Their CO has to be Frank Burn's identical twin; no chin and no guts. He's strictly by the book. And not a very good book, either. The other two surgeons are mediocre, at best. Roy Dupree is supposed to be fairly good, however; according to Colonel Potter and B J. I don't know…I never met him."

"But," the man added, "The worst part is that none of them have a sense of humor. They didn't laugh at any of my jokes or puns; they wouldn't take the bait on anything I threw out. They're all a bunch of dead fish."

"I'm missing this place already," Sarabeth said with a smile.

* * *

A short time later, during the commotion of greeting the new nurse and waving goodbye to the other one, no one noticed that Monica Parnelli slipped into the company clerk's office. She came out, crumpling a note in her hand, and grinning in satisfaction.

_A/N: Thanks to 'I Keep Goldfish….' for the curse._


	59. 59

FIFTY NINE

* * *

Feb 22nd: 0830 hours

Having a few minutes before he was expected to report for duty, Charles Winchester sat at his desk. He removed a pen and some stationery from the drawer. This was the last of the writing paper he had brought back from Tokyo General. If only he could go back there…on a more permanent basis, of course. Mentally composing what he planned to write, he started his letter:

_My dear Honoria,_

_I am thrilled to hear that Mother's latest concert performance was so well received. Four standing ovations! That's marvelous! How I wish I could have been in attendance with you. I truly miss hearing the more urbane sounds of civilization. _

_I did receive a brief, but still welcome, reprieve from the uncouth cacophony that surrounds me here. Having a couple of unexpected hours off, Sarabeth invited me over to her quarters for some quiet conversation. I selected some serene recordings that would complement our tête-à-tête._

_Since we could hear the artillery pieces being fired in the distance, and since that destructive noise reminded both of us of our brothers that have passed on, the initial part of our discussion was depressing. However, my favorite Texan quickly managed to direct things into a more cheerful venue. She suggested we dance together._

_At first, I was surprised at her suggestion. Pierce and Hunnicutt have hosted several dances. And while I have observed them, I had never participated in them. For one thing, my wretched knee often pains me. And for another, I am reluctant to become so publicly involved in the often frenetic activities of this place._

_However, with Sarabeth as my dance partner, and in the privacy of her tent, I overcame that reluctance. Despite what she says, she does, indeed, know how to waltz. Holding her closer than perhaps I should have, we were lost in that wonderful melody. And knowing that this was a stolen moment; made it even sweeter._

_Of course, we were interrupted by the arrival of injured soldiers and civilians. The rest of our evening was spent dancing to a much different tune._

_Earlier, Sarabeth had given invitations to Colonel Potter and Margaret to play cards with the two of us. And, the following day, we were going to assemble at her quarters for that card game. I would rather have spent the time alone with her; however, this was a previous obligation._

_Unfortunately, I was forced to miss that invitation due to… I must admit… my own foolishness. My tent mates and I were having a chat with Sarabeth in the mess tent when she was called to the colonel's office to discuss her transfer. Since she hadn't mentioned a change in assignment to any of us, we were stunned to hear that announcement._

_After she left, Lieutenant Parnelli informed us that Sarabeth was being transferred to the 8063rd and was leaving immediately. I was astounded to hear that news. I panicked at the thought of her going…without even telling me…and without me telling her…the things I've been meaning to say to that lady. _

_So, I verbally attacked Pierce because I assumed that he was the causative agent of her decision. And he responded in kind. Hunnicutt and Mulcahy had to separate us. I was surprised at our camp priest. Mulcahy is a much smaller man than Pierce, but he jumped in, grabbed him by an ear and dragged him away. Of course, he's Irish, so that explains his scrappiness. _

_To bring this regretful episode to an end: Colonel Potter roared at both of us, confined us to the purgatory of the Swamp, and promised that we would be scrubbing bedpans if we continued our disagreement. Realizing how humiliating that would be for skilled surgeons to be delegated __that__ task, Pierce and I declared an uneasy truce for the night._

_I should have remembered that Lieutenant Parnelli and Cousin Alfred are similar in nature; neither of them have much truth in them._

_Sarabeth left this morning. It is, thankfully, only a temporary assignment. When she returns, we will be having a party to celebrate the next set of birthdays for this outfit. Hopefully, since the photographs that Pierce has been so annoyingly trying to locate will be revealed, Sarabeth can be freed from some of his more neurotic behaviors._

_And speaking of photographs; when Sarabeth requests one of me, please send her a picture from one of my polo matches. For one thing, I think I looked quite dashing; and, it will prove to all doubters that I am an accomplished horseman. _

_Now then, sweet sister, tell me about your evening with…._

* * *

Sitting at her desk, the head nurse of the 8063rd medical unit was frowning in aggravation. The company clerk had just stopped by to announce that Colonel Blankenship was on her way. And wasn't that just wonderful news. Picking up her pen, she continued the letter she was writing to her cousin in San Diego:

…._and what did I do to get Blankenship on my back? So what if the triage and pre-op notes aren't always attached to the surgical treatments? All of the soldiers that are brought here are seen, prepared and treated. That's all that matters. And who cares if the all the villages for the civilian patients aren't listed? Most of their villages don't even exist anymore. So why should I bother to find out where they came from? _

_I'm telling you, Janice, all of these reports we have to write are driving me crazy! And most of it is Margaret Houlihan's fault. She never hesitates to let me know that she __always__ manages to get her reports in by the deadline. And now, she's found some nurse who also gets these blasted surveys and endless inquiries over to I-Corps and to Blankenship on time. Which makes her look good and me look bad. She is so infuriating!!_

_That's one of the reasons why I went out with Penobscott after they were married. Donald was fun to be with but mainly I did it to get back at her. And I know that she's behind Blankenship coming here. I can't do anything about that. When this nurse, McAllen or whatever her name is, comes back next week; boy, am I going to let her have it!_

Coming to end of that sheet, Judy Parker grabbed another piece of paper.

_And that leads me to what happened last night. I didn't get to bed until late and it took a long time for me to get to sleep. Sometime later, I woke up just _knowing_ that someone was in my tent, staring down at me. Startled, I tried to get away to the other side of my cot. But, then he grabbed me and placed one hand over my mouth. That's when I really began to fight him off! I got in a couple of good blows before he finally identified himself._

_It was that CID officer, Colonel Flagg. He's been here several times…picking up prisoners of war…or looking for the Communists he always thinks are hiding under our beds. He really has a few screws loose. Turns out he wanted to know about this nurse that Houlihan's sending to me. How long was she staying? How many people knew that she was here? Things like that. _

_I wasn't going to tell him anything, until he produced some __very__ incriminating pictures. _

_Flagg wondered how long I'd keep my rank as major when General Hawthorne's wife saw them. And what would Colonel Blankenship say about them? He also said he had more photographs: some taken in Tokyo; some taken in Kimpo; some from our medical storeroom! He also wondered how long I'd live if he showed Houlihan the ones taken with Penobscott. _

_I was wondering just how, and when, he took those pictures. I'm certain we were always very discreet. Reluctantly, I told him what details I knew._

_He told me to keep him informed about her actions and who she talked to. He also said that we were to keep her from contacting anyone outside this outfit. I told him that I was going to keep her so busy doing scut work that she wouldn't have time to talk to anyone; that Colonel Woodridge might be able to stop her out-going phone calls; but, I didn't know how he was going to prevent people from calling her or from her writing to anyone._

_Colonel Flagg said he had already made arrangements to seize all of our mail sacks and the ones leaving the 4077th, as well. And, he'd cut the communication lines, if he had to. I said he couldn't do that; we had to have the phones available to order supplies or to know when the ambulances were coming. The smile he gave me sent shivers down my spine. That man IS crazy. _

_I don't know why he's so interested in her. Maybe he's a rejected lover and he's jealous of her new boyfriend. I almost feel sorry for her…almost._

_He left soon after that…__but not before saying that he had __allowed__ me to hear him; and that, if I tried to report any of this, the next time he came here, I'd be dead before I even knew he was in my tent.__ I believe him._

_Anyway, that's my latest excitement._

_Is Steven going to try out for the football team again next year? I hope this war will be over soon, because I'd like to…._

After Major Parker finished her letter, she placed it in the envelope she had addressed. Hesitating before she sealed it, she considered the intelligence officer's parting words. He said he was going to start intercepting the mail. Since the 4077th nurse was coming today, did that mean he'd be reading everyone's mail, now? Would he read this one? And would he really come after her?

She couldn't take that chance. Taking the second page of her note, Parker threw it inside the heater in her tent. Even though there was a hint of warmer weather coming, she still needed the extra warmth it provided. She watched that sheet burn and shrivel into ashes. Taking a fresh sheet of paper, the woman rewrote the rest of her letter without mentioning a certain CID officer or his late night visit.

* * *

Sitting by herself in the mess tent, Lieutenant Kellye Tanakhamara was also writing a letter:

…_Klinger just left. He said that Mitch Cochlan had called for Sarabeth. He wanted to talk to her about something. Klinger told him where she was and when she would be back. Mitch said he'd try to come to our birthday party to talk to her then. I'm looking forward to that party, it should be fun. _

_Anyway, Tim, Major Houlihan was asking the nurse from the 1034th some questions and she seems to know how to work in a hectic MASH unit. That's good to know._

_She's staying in our tent. That's not so good. She's not very friendly. Maybe it's because she knows she's not going to be here very long. __Also, she doesn't like dogs. __Jennifer hadn't been in our tent for more than two minutes before she demanded that we 'throw out that mutt before he leaves his fleas and muddy footprints all over my bed'. _

_Christie told her that Ernie __was__ staying with us and that she'd be happy to show __her__ to a tent more to her liking. Since they were starting to argue, they didn't see Ernie walk over to her satchel. He sniffed it a couple of times and then lifted his leg on it. I swear that dog had a smile on his face! I had to leave because I was about to burst out laughing. I can't wait until she realizes what happened…._


	60. 60

SIXTY

* * *

Feb 22nd: 2030 hours

Two men stood outside an Army tent. They looked around carefully, making certain that they were not being observed. Silently, they slipped inside the tent and turned on a small flashlight that gave off very little illumination.

"Perfect," one man whispered. He knelt beside a container and kept the light close to the ground to avoid detection. "The key's still in the lock."

"I'm not so sure about this," the other man softly objected. "It's like desecrating a church or something."

"It's just an Army-issued, canvas-covered tent. It's not like it's a real church or anything. Come on, now's our chance. He's over at the Officer's Club directing the Bingo game. He won't be back for a couple of hours yet."

"And she'll be back tomorrow; and the party's day after that. I think we should wait."

"No, now's the ideal time; no one suspects a thing. Here, hold this," he handed the light to the other man. Carefully, and quietly, turning the key in the lock, the man smiled in satisfaction at the sound of the tumblers clicking. "Ta-da! See, I told you it would be easy." Lifting the lid, he began removing articles out of the wooden box. He whispered the titles of the books he was handling: "_Mosby's Medical Dictionary_, the Bible, _The Hound of the Baskervilles,_ _Riders of the Purple Sage_…something for every taste in here."

"Will you hurry up!" The other man hissed in annoyance. He still didn't like this.

"This is it: _'birthday gifts and pictures'_." The more determined of the two intruders took the smaller box from the footlocker and set it on the stack of books. "Hold your light closer." Inspecting the contents, the man ignored the three paper wrapped jars. Instead, he reached for the envelope sitting beside them, "Come to Poppa."

Immediately, a loud rattling sound was heard. Having watched numerous Westerns (the commanding officer's favorite choice of films), they recognized the sound just as instantaneously. The men looked at each other in horror. In a flurry of chaotic, death-is-only-moments-away, terrified movements, the lid was slammed shut; the books were knocked aside; the light was kicked under the bed; and two men bumped into each other, and the furnishings, while trying frantically to find the door.

Kneeling outside the tent, looking wide-eyed and frightened, the men stared at each other. "Who the hell keeps a rattlesnake in their footlocker?" One managed to gasp out the question.

"She's a Texan. Maybe they're required to keep their snakes and spurs with them at all times." The other one was also trying to catch his breath.

Still struggling to bring his tachycardia under control, the first man said, "Come on. Maybe we can distract it or something."

"Distract it? Are you crazy?! I'm not going back in there!"

"Yes, you are."

"No I'm not. I'm planning to die in my bed, at home, fifty years from now. Not here…not from fright and not from a rattlesnake bite."

"Fine, I'll go by myself," the man declared. Grabbing one of the painted rocks that acted as a sidewalk marker, he slowly, and warily, eased open the door. Looking about wildly for any reptilian signs, he stealthily moved inside.

Sighing, his companion gave a silent prayer and followed him.

After locating the flash light, and securing the only other possible weapon they could find--the padre's steel helmet that was supposed to protect one's brains--they crept over to the container.

One man, gripping the rock tightly, and holding the flashlight between his teeth, watched as the other cautiously lifted the lid. They examined the contents as carefully as if they were dismantling a bomb. Seeing nothing slithering, they used the helmet as a scoop.

As soon as the metal touched the envelope; however; another buzzed warning was heard.

This time, although they jumped back in alarm, they realized the racket was coming from inside the small envelope.

"It's just a noisemaker," one announced in relief.

"Careful. It could be a _pygmy_ rattlesnake, you know."

"No," he started to reach inside, "If she thinks she can outwit me…." A sudden snapping noise was heard and the man began to flail about in pain. "Ow! Ow!" He screamed, "Get it off! Get it off!"

Once again, the men, leaving everything behind them, rushed out of the tent. This time, they didn't stop until they had reached the safety of the hospital building.

Anxiously inspecting the man's fingers, the other man remarked, in relief, "No puncture wounds, no scratches, just a red mark. I think you're okay."

"I'm not so sure about that. I may faint."

"Can we go back to our tent, now?" He asked forcefully. "I need a drink."

"You and me both. And I'm not stopping at just one, either!"

Unseen by the burglars, on the other side of the tent, a third man was clutching both hands across his mouth to keep any sounds from escaping. Since he was already on his knees, he asked for forgiveness for enjoying that so much. And, he was certain he could get a good sermon out of all this…if only he could keep from laughing as he tried to give it.


	61. 61

SIXTY ONE

* * *

Feb 23rd: 1600 hours

Colonel Potter and Father Mulcahy were discussing the provisions that the priest had requested. "Meg Crattie says she has five more children who came to her with only the clothes on their backs. I know we recently took some supplies over to the orphanage, but do we have anything we can spare for her?"

"Have Klinger requisition some more blankets and civilian clothing, Padre," the senior officer decided. "We can also send a few pounds of rice or some canned goods from the mess stores, as well." He grinned and added, "You'd be doing the rest of us a favor if you could take it all away…before our cooks prepare another meal for us."

"Yes, but would that really help the children?" The priest asked with a smile.

Sergeant Klinger knocked at the door and opened it slightly. "Excuse the interruption, sirs. I just got off the line with Colonel Blankenship. She's decided to stay an extra day at the 8063rd. But," he continued at the commander's annoyed expression, "She's sending the lieutenant back by helicopter. They're waiting for it to arrive, now. The pilot's supposed to contact us when he's within our range."

"Good." The colonel relaxed. "Let Major Houlihan know. And let that nurse from the 1034th know, as well."

"And Klinger," Mulcahy added, "when you pick up Lieutenant MacAllister, please tell her: _the eggs hatched_."

The company clerk looked at the camp priest doubtfully. "The eggs hatched, sir?" He questioned.

"Yes. She'll know what I'm talking about."

"Yes, sir," Klinger returned to his office. "That makes one of us," he muttered. He certainly didn't understand what Mulcahy meant…but then, Max shrugged, most of the time, things around here didn't make much sense, anyway.

Back in his office, Colonel Potter scrutinized his religious representative carefully. "Mulcahy, you've been more cheerful today than a blue jay with an ear of corn. Is there something that you'd care to share with the rest of us?" The commander asked.

Looking apologetic, the man answered with a secretive smile, "Sorry, sir. It's part of a confession…of sorts."

* * *

Major Houlihan was reviewing medical chart reports with the newest addition to her staff when the company clerk informed them of Blankenship's announcement. Hiding her relief, the charge nurse finished her discussion on the correct way to complete forms before releasing Lieutenant Jennifer Clark for her return to the 1034th hospital unit.

Fleeing to her quarters, grateful for the reprieve, Clark hastily packed her satchel and then went to mess tent to wait. She had heard the rumors about the head nurse here; about how difficult she was to get along with and how hard it was to please her. They hadn't been rumors, she knew that now. Houlihan's inquiries into the substitute nurse's expertise had been unnerving. And so had her inspections of everything Clark had done during her stint as a ward duty nurse.

She was disappointed in the Chief Surgeon, too. Hearing of his reputation, she had actually been expecting a brief romantic interlude with the handsome doctor. Instead, he had spent the entire time grousing about the mangled condition of his fingers. They didn't look damaged, or even bruised, to her.

And to make things even worse, this camp was closer to the front lines than her unit. The angry outbursts from the field artillery were much louder than she was used to; and much closer than she liked. She would be glad to get back to her outfit. Clark hoped she wouldn't be the one assigned to come back here next week.

After settling on a bench, Jennifer looked around for that micturating little monster. It was a good thing that dog was keeping out of her sight. Twice already, he had 'watered' her bag. And just this morning, he had managed to pee inside one of her boots! She set her satchel up on the bench beside her…just in case.

* * *

When Major Winchester heard the news, he cheered up considerably. No doubt, MacAllister would be meeting with her senior officers upon her arrival. After that, unless Margaret changed the work schedule, Sarabeth would have the ward duty this evening. Since there were only two patients remaining in the hospital, he knew she would have time to talk with him. And he certainly had no objections to spending his time with her.

* * *

When Hawkeye Pierce heard the news, he frowned anxiously. He knew he was going to have some explaining to do. "Okay, how about this?" He suggested to B J Hunnicutt, "There was a small earthquake centered near Mulcahy's tent. And it shook everything up in her footlocker."

"That won't work," his gin-drinking partner observed. "Priests aren't supposed to have _faults_."

"Well…how about this: Ernie was missing her so much, that when he smelled her scent on the box, he started scratching on it---which set off the trap."

"That won't work, either, Hawk. She'll smell a rat…namely you. How about," B J mildly suggested, "you just admit that you looted her footlocker. And accept the consequences."

"I did not loot her footlocker!" The dark-haired surgeon protested. "I was merely conducting a scientific investigation. Besides," he confided with a grin, "if I had been looting, rooting, snooping, or even perusing through her personal effects, I would have started with her lingerie."

* * *

Driving back from the helicopter landing area, Sergeant Klinger was telling the red-haired nurse the latest news, "That MP called and said he had a couple of hours off tomorrow. He'd be glad to stand guard for us. And Igor said he'd have the cake ready. Except…he had to trade the brownies you promised him to that supply sergeant in Kimpo for the eggs and flour."

"Reckon I'll have to send a telegraph to Mama asking her to mail some more homemade goodies to us," Sarabeth said with a smile. "What else has been going on, Max?"

"Well, most of the nurses didn't like your replacement." The man grinned, "And neither did Ernie. She's been squawking about his bathroom habits since she got here."

Already laughing at Ernie's exploits, MacAllister laughed even more when Klinger relayed Mulcahy's message.

"Care to explain that message?" The man questioned hopefully.

She grinned, "Nope. What about Hawkeye? Has he seemed _rattled_ about anything?"

The company clerk informed her, "Captain Pierce spent most of yesterday asking everyone again about those pictures. He hardly paid any attention to Lieutenant Clark…even though it was obvious that she was interested in him. And this morning, he's been favoring his right hand…caught it in a door, he claims."

"Fancy that," MacAllister replied. There was a mischievous sparkle to her eyes. Reaching around her neck, the woman started to remove the blue stone necklace the man had given her. "Thanks for loaning this to me, Klinger. I did feel safer wearing it."

"You're going back next week. Why don't you just keep it until then?" He suggested. "The longer you wear it, the stronger the protection you get from the stone."

"All right, I will," the Texan agreed. "Thanks. I have a feeling that I may need it. I probably should bring a wooden stake or some silver bullets, too."

"The 8063rd is that bad?"

"Well," Sarabeth shrugged, "Major Parker was very careful to not say anything when Colonel Blankenship was around. But whenever we were alone…she made it clear that I was about as welcome there as a polecat at a picnic. It's not going to be much fun when I go back."

"All the more reason to wear that amulet," the man declared as he stopped the jeep in front of the hospital building. "Give me a few minutes. As soon as I can get some garlic from the mess tent, I'll reinforce that curse so that it will even ward off head nurses!"

"Just make sure it doesn't run everyone else off, too." Sarabeth said with a laugh.

* * *

The ward nurse had taken care of her patient's medications. All of her medical charts were complete as well. One soldier, recovering from his injuries, was reading a magazine. The other was playing a game of solitaire. Since everything in the hospital was under control, the nurse sat down and pulled a small piece of material, scissors and needle and thread from a bag.

As she began cutting and sewing on the cloth, the surgeon who was sitting beside her asked, "Did your mother send some socks for you to _darn_?"

Smiling at his reference to an earlier pun exchange, she shook her head, "Nope."

"Then, what are you working on?" He was curious.

"I'm working on something that will frustrate Hawkeye."

Nodding in satisfaction, he said, "Please continue, my dear. I certainly approve of and encourage all efforts that irritate, upset, baffle, thwart and otherwise aggravate that particular resident of New England."

The redheaded woman laughed softly, "It's good to be home."


	62. 62

SIXTY TWO

* * *

Feb 24th: 1330 hours

The party was going well. The guests were mingling. The birthday celebrants had opened their gifts. The punch was being consumed. And the cake was being eaten. And Igor Stimenski was smiling. It was rare that he got compliments instead of complaints.

Casually strolling towards the toilet paper 'rope' that separated the main attractions from the rest of the tent; Hawkeye Pierce tried once again to peek under the blanket that concealed the pictures from home. Once again, the MP who stood guard over the photographs scared him off. He was getting perturbed at the physician's persistence.

Hoping to stave off that war, Sarabeth MacAllister called for everyone's attention. "And now," she announced, "the moment that we've all been waiting for…the moment that some of us have been more anxious about than others," the woman lifted an eyebrow at a certain doctor in attendance before continuing, "has arrived."

"Welcome to the Korean version of the SoHo museum district. Our first exhibit today comes from the wonderful art gallery known as Ohio." Reaching behind the covering, she removed a photo and held it out to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: _The Fire Escape_. And here to tell you about his masterpiece is the man, himself…Mister Max Klinger!"

After the people in the mess tent finished laughing at both the scrawny kid in the picture and the man's explanation of how he came to be dangling upside down on a metal ladder three stories above the ground, the woman dressed in a silky embroidered kimono reached for the next photograph, "And this one comes from the Potter collection."

The photograph she displayed showed a handsome young man in the uniform of a cavalry soldier of the First World War. It was accompanied by some admiring whistles from the women and applause from the men. When he looked at the younger version of himself, the old soldier was momentarily lost in his memories. He pulled himself back to gaze affectionately at the people in the mess tent. "Charles Dickens had it right…_ 'It was the best of times; it was the worst of times' .... _And I wouldn't trade them for anything. Not then. Not now. Except", he concluded with a grin, "I'd like to have that thick, black hair, again."

The next birthday celebrant was B J Hunnicutt. Before Sarabeth could present the picture to the eager crowd, he pulled it away to look at it by himself. He exhaled in loud relief. It was a picture of Peg and him on their first date. And he had been worried that his mother would send something embarrassing.

He began telling members of the MASH unit about that college dance. "…Peg was the most beautiful woman there! I couldn't take my eyes off of her. But," he laughed at himself, "I should have paid more attention to my feet."

"I certainly didn't mean to step on her poor toes that many times. She was actually beginning to stumble lamely across the dance floor before I realized what was happening. I couldn't help it. I was just an awkward guy overawed by the prettiest girl I had ever seen. She's still the prettiest girl I've ever seen." The man with the mustache smiled at the woman in the picture.

Sarabeth MacAllister stepped forward. "That was a wonderful presentation from Wife Hunnicutt. And now, the one from Mother Hunnicutt…" She started towards the table for the final picture.

The man from California whirled around to confront her. "What?! That one wasn't from my mom?"

"Nope," the woman grinned at him. "The one from your mother is still waiting to be shown. And…."

"And, I have it!" Moving quickly, Hawkeye Pierce snatched the photograph from the table even before the military police officer could react. He moved away from the crowd to examine the picture. Staring at it intensely, he began to laugh. Soon he was laughing so hard, he was having trouble standing upright.

B J tried to retrieve his picture but Hawkeye evaded his grasping arms. He turned the picture around to show to everyone. And the man from California resigned himself to his fate.

It was the typical 'baby on the rug' shot all right: except that someone had very carefully attached a tiny green uniform that properly covered the pink skin of the infant. An even tinier mustache covered his upper lip.

As the merriment grew among the party goers, only one person noticed that the door to the mess tent opened. A tired, dusty, grim-faced soldier looked around. Catching the eye of the woman who was watching him, he gestured in an 'outside' motion to her.

Ignored by the rest of the people in the tent, Sarabeth MacAllister silently moved past Mitch Cochlan. The door closed behind them; leaving the happy conversations inside.


	63. 63

SIXTY THREE

* * *

Feb 24th: 1400 hours

"Mitch, what's wrong?" MacAllister asked.

Instead of answering her, the Australian soldier escorted her to the side of the tent. He leaned his rifle against the canvas material and pulled the redheaded woman towards him. Holding her in a strong embrace, he kissed her fervently. Not until she drew back, with a slight wince, as his stubble scraped across her skin, did he loosen his grip.

With one arm still firmly wrapped around her waist, the man rubbed his jaw. "Sorry about the face fungus, Sarabeth," he apologized. "I haven't had a chance to shave. Or," lifting his arm and sniffing, he added, "Take a bath, either." Mitch Cochlan grinned.

"That's okay, Outback," MacAllister drawled. "At least, you still _look_ good."

"So who needs glasses now, Texas?" The man teased. His expression changed. Now sad, he gently ran his fingers over her face. He stared intently at her…as if he was memorizing the lines of her cheek bones, the curves of her eyebrows, even the freckles scattered across her nose. Cochlan held her…as if he intended to never let her go.

Sarabeth asked quietly, "Mitch, why do I get the feeling that you're trying to say goodbye…without actually having to say it?"

"Brains as well as beauty. That's why I like Texas women."

"And just how many Texas women do you know?" She lifted her eyebrow, pretending to be jealous, trying to lighten the mood.

Smiling at her, he replied, "Just one. And she's enough for me." Playfully, he twisted a lock of her hair into a curl. "Although, truth be told, Tom and the rest of my men wouldn't mind if you introduced them to your sisters and cousins."

"No sisters; just lots of cousins and friends. But, y'all will have to come to Texas to meet them."

Cochlan shook his head. "I'm not sure we'll have that opportunity. Has your brother, the colonel, told you anything about what's coming up?"

"The only thing Crockett's told me is that they're going to hit us **hard**, in several locations. And that it's going to be some of the heaviest, bloodiest fighting we've seen so far."

"That's what we've been told, as well. Zheng He and his own personal detachment of sadistic bas…brutes," he corrected himself, "are somewhere near Kunsan. The majority of their fighters will also be in that sector. But they've increased their numbers all long the front lines. No matter where Allied forces happen to be; it's all going to be as ugly as a box of blowflies."

"That's why I'm here." The military man thought about the carnage that was coming before continuing. He sighed. "We're being transferred to the Kunsan region. We're supposed to be one of the outposts of resistance…to hold back, or at least slow down, the Chinese horde in that area. Captain Davidson dropped me off outside camp. He gave me twenty minutes and then we're on our way. And so," Cochlan reached for the woman again, "I'm going to spend the rest of my time holding my girl."

"Your girl?" Sarabeth questioned, this time her eyebrow arched up in genuine surprise.

"My girl," Mitch confirmed emphatically. "Didn't I tell you about that?"

"No." The woman looked at him with a serious expression. "But thanks for telling me. It's always good when _both_ of the people involved know things like that." Hearing footsteps approaching, she whispered, in irritation, "It's probably that tattletale, Parnelli."

The Australian grinned mischievously. He announced, in a loud voice, "To whoever might be listening in, I proudly proclaim that Sarabeth MacAllister is _my _girl!" Looking at her, his grin broadened as she smiled back at him. He added, in a lower tone, "And now, let's really give that sticky beak something to squawk about."

The kiss that accompanied his words was a passionate one.

* * *

Slipping back inside the mess tent, MacAllister glanced around at the people gathered there. They were still enjoying themselves. "Good; no one missed me. Except you," the Texan spoke to the little dog that ran to greet her. She picked up the camp mascot who licked her chin with enthusiasm. "Looks like I'm getting lots of kisses today, Ernie."

Cradling the dog in her arms, Sarabeth sat at a table in the corner. She gently stroked his ears as she thought about everything. She had a lot to think about.

Spying her, B J Hunnicutt nudged Hawkeye Pierce. He placed some cookies in a plate while his tent mate poured another cup of punch. Sauntering over to her, the pair sat on the bench across from her.

"There you are," B J greeted her with a happy smile. "Try some of Peg's rum cookies. They're almost as good as her rum cake."

"And this punch is mighty tasty, too," Hawkeye assured her as he passed the glass to her. "Of course, I had to add some homebrew to get it this way."

Hiding her troubled thoughts behind a welcoming grin, the nurse replied, "Rum and gin…what a brilliant combination."

"Yes, we are brilliant," Pierce conceded humbly.

Looking at the Texan quizzically, B J asked, "Is anything wrong?"

"Nope, not a thing," Sarabeth answered with one of her bright smiles. "So, Hawk, did the pictures meet with your approval?" She questioned.

The surgeon's laughter filled the tent. "I loved them. But, I still want to see what's underneath B J's uniform."

"I'm not taking my clothes off for you," the doctor from California informed him. He held onto the framed photograph tightly. In order to not damage the family picture, MacAllister had glued the material to the glass and had positioned the photo behind it. "And you're not getting your hands on this, either."

"Speaking of hands," the woman stared at the dark-haired physician in accusation, "How are your fingers, Hawkeye? Any lasting affects from pawing through my personal possessions?"

Captain Pierce had the good grace to blush. He quickly recovered, however. "All my digits are as dexterous as ever." He waggled them at her. "But, you have got to show me how to set that up!"

"Only if you swear to never to use it on Charles," MacAllister replied. She looked around the tent. "Where is he, by the way? I don't see him in here anymore."

Hawkeye shrugged, "He left a few minutes ago."

"A few minutes ago?" Sarabeth echoed with a frown. "That means he was the one…." The woman abruptly set the dog on the floor. "Will y'all excuse me? I have to go talk to him."

She left behind two astonished men.


	64. 64

SIXTY FOUR

* * *

"Charles!" Sarabeth MacAllister knocked on the door at the Swamp. "Answer me!" She banged harder. "I know you're in there!"

She heard a muffled, "Go away!" The woman walked inside. Charles Winchester had been sitting on his cot. When she entered, he stood abruptly. With obvious anger, he repeated, "Go away!" The man pointed toward the exit.

"Nope." She sat in the chair at his desk. "We have to talk."

"We," the man remarked in a cold tone, "have absolutely nothing to discuss. Leave, lieutenant. And that's an order!"

Ignoring his command, she replied, "I thought you said anytime I felt the need to talk, you'd be willing to listen."

"That was before I realized that you actually prefer to act like a common…." He stopped himself before he completed that sentence. "Anyway, shouldn't you be outside with _him_? So he can spend time with _his _girl?"

"He's gone," MacAllister answered. "He _is_ a solider fighting in a war, you know." Her expression darkened, "And, just what did you mean…." Hearing a noise outside, the woman jumped up. She flung open the door and caught the other occupants of the Swamp kneeling by the side of the tent.

"Benjamin Franklin Pierce! B J-just initials-Hunnicutt! Y'all had best clear out of here before I start chunking rocks at both of y'all!" The Texan stared fiercely at the two surgeons. She scooped up a painted sidewalk stone and hefted it. "I'll be rocking y'all until Korea runs out of rocks or the Chinese run out of bullets! And I always hit what I aim at. Now, git!!"

Flustered at being caught eavesdropping, the men backed away from her fury.

"We're getting," Captain Hunnicutt assured her.

"We're already gone," Captain Pierce added. "We're over at Rosie's, right now."

"Good!" Sarabeth exclaimed. "Stay there and don't y'all ever say a word about what y'all think you heard in here." She dropped the stone and went back inside the surgeon's quarters.

Slamming the door, the woman turned to face the man inside. MacAllister repeated her question, "Acting like a common…_what_, Charles?" At his silence, the woman, in a dangerously calm voice, persisted, "Finish your sentence. I'm acting like a common what?"

"That remark was definitely uncalled for and I profusely apologize," the man stated. His regret over his hasty words was obvious.

Walking over to other side of the tent, the officer poured himself a glass of the clear embalming fluid that Hawkeye Pierce so lovingly called gin. He knocked back the contents of his glass in a single swallow. Eyes widening at the intense burn, Winchester shuddered, coughed and sputtered. When he could breathe again, he said, "I simply fail to understand why you would consent to such a _public_ display of affection."

"At least he's not afraid of showing his affection or telling me how he feels!" The Texan had her hands on her hips and was glaring at the man from Massachusetts.

"Oh, it's quite obvious that he _feels_. He had his hands all over you."

"And that makes you jealous."

"Actually," Charles Emerson Winchester the third replied in haughty distain, "it makes me nauseous. And I see no further need to continue this conversation. Since you won't leave, I will." The doctor tried to step around the nurse who was blocking the door.

The anger draining from her face, Sarabeth gently caught him arm. "I want to know something first. You've said you consider me a friend; someone that you enjoy being with. Is there anything more between us? Please, Charles, tell me," she pleaded. The unhappiness was obvious in her green eyes. "Don't you care for me, at all?"

"I...." Try as he might, he could not release his tongue to tell how her deeply he cared for her. Too many years of keeping his emotions contained were working against him. The words were locked inside.

She studied him and asked, with a touch of returning temper, "Is it because I'd much rather ride horses than attend operas? Do you think I'll track in cow dung across your priceless Persian rug? Or is it because I'm not a 'Blue Blood' and I don't belong to the same social register that you do? Are you afraid I'll embarrass you in front of Grand Mama Winchester, and your father and your mother, and all of your servants? Is that it?"

The man from Boston shook his head. "No," he managed to reply. "That's not it."

"Then what is the problem? Tell me how you feel about me…about us…deep down…in your heart. Answer me, please," Sarabeth MacAllister begged again.

To his shame, the man still remained silent. Some things simply could not be forced into the open that easily.

The woman looked at him in deep disappointment. She sighed, "That's okay, Charles. I understand. You've built a five strand barbwire fence around yourself…it is horse high and bull strong…and no one can get in to hurt you. But you can't get out, either."

She added, "I'm tired of getting sliced every time I try to reach out to you." Opening the door she turned to look at him, "If you ever decide to escape from that corral you've confined yourself in, let me know. I'll be happy to loan you a pair of wire cutters so you can free yourself. Just don't expect me to wait for you." Sarabeth walked out without another word.

"Don't go," Winchester whispered to the empty room.

* * *

Inside her tent, the young woman held her pet close. "Oh, Ernie. I'm sure glad I have you," she whispered and hugged the little animal. The dog whined in concern. His tongue tried to catch the salty tears that were falling for one man who could say what was in his heart and for the other man, who couldn't.

It was actually a relief, when all of the surgical teams were called to the compound for triage.

The Texan wiped away the traces of her unhappiness as she hurried towards the people needing medical assistance. "It's always fun and games in Korea."


	65. 65

SIXTY FIVE

* * *

Feb 24th: 1600 hours

The last of the wounded soldiers had been unloaded from the medical transports. Triage had been completed. Those with the most severe injuries were already being prepared for surgery. The rest were waiting their turn.

Lieutenant MacAllister and Major Houlihan were alone in the nurse's changing room. "Major, I know the surgery schedule is already set," the Texan spoke. "But, could you move Parnelli from Doctor Winchester's table? I reckon he's going to need someone more competent working with him today."

The blonde charge nurse looked at her second-in-command suspiciously. "And I suppose you want to be the surgical nurse for his table…instead of being assigned to Doctor Hunnicutt?"

"No, ma'am," the younger woman shook her head. "I doubt that the major wants me around right now."

Still considering MacAllister's request, Margaret Houlihan asked, "Why? What's going on?"

The other nurse replied with a shrug, "Nothing really. We just had a disagreement. We'll both get over it."

"All right. I'll take his table. Parnelli can have the job of Rover. But you have some explaining to do, later."

* * *

Nine and half hours later, the final patient was carried from the OR into the recovery ward. As the surgeons trudged to their changing room, Colonel Potter stifled a yawn. The company clerk was relaying the messages the commander had missed. "…And Headquarters says we can expect these little skirmishes to continue for several more days."

"_Little_ skirmishes?" Hawkeye Pierce scoffed at the words. "Two ambulance busses filled to the gills with the wounded and the dying? And they call that a little skirmish? I wonder how many casualties it takes for those morons at HQ to call it a _major_ battle."

"I don't think I want to know," B J Hunnicutt replied. He was trying not to fall asleep while standing up.

"You're right. I don't really want to know that either," the Chief Surgeon admitted.

"Also, Colonel MacAllister would like to talk to you…at your earliest convenience," Sergeant Klinger continued. "He said that he has some matters to discuss with you."

The clerk interrupted himself as the nurse from Texas walked by, "Lieutenant, your brother also wanted to know if you were okay. He said he could tell you were upset about something."

Casually, the youngest MacAllister shrugged, "Tell him I'm fine." Without another word for the men, she started towards the recently vacated operating room.

Captain Pierce reached out to catch her arm. "Wait, you masseuse of mercy. Why don't you come back to the Swamp with us? I'll ply you with gin and you can apply your magical fingers to my shoulders."

"I can't sir," the nurse replied. She showed him the mop and bucket in her hand. "I've got OR clean-up duty."

Knowing that Margaret Houlihan usually assigned that detail as a punishment for some rule infraction, the surgeons looked at MacAllister in surprise.

"Uh-oh, what'd you do?" Hawkeye asked in concern.

Again the woman shrugged, "Nothing really. Excuse me, gentlemen." She left the group of men and entered the surgery area.

Shaking their heads at the situation, Potter, Pierce and Hunnicutt entered their changing area. Major Winchester, who had been leaning against the wall, stared at the closing doors to the OR before following the other men. Removing his blood stained clothing; he ignored the speculations from the other surgeons about the charge nurses.

Colonel Potter examined him curiously. "Winchester, you seem more distant than usual. Is something the matter?"

"With Charles, the more distance you have from him the better," Captain Pierce offered his opinion. He grinned at the glare the man from Boston sent his way.

Major Winchester finished dressing. "The further I am away from you, Pierce, the better I like it," he replied as he tossed his soiled surgical gear into a nearby hamper. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he nodded to Potter and Hunnicutt. "Exterminate yourself, louse," was his parting remark to the Chief Surgeon.

* * *

Dunking her brush into the bucket of disinfectant, concentrating on her task, Sarabeth MacAllister was startled when Charles Winchester walked into the operating room. She gave him a tentative smile. "Howdy, Major. Why aren't you getting some shut eye? Second shift post-op duty will be here before you know it."

"I wanted to speak to you, first," the doctor said. He handed her a cup of coffee. "Klinger insists this was brewed within the last hour. I have my suspicions about that claim, however."

"Thanks." She accepted the mug gratefully. "I was fixin' to hook up a coffee IV for myself."

Pulling up two low stools, the surgeon asked her rest for a few minutes. The nurse sat down with a sigh of relief. As usual, he waited until she was seated before joining her. "Your ankle is hurting again, isn't it?"

Taking a sip of her hot drink, relishing the taste, she nodded in reply.

"Take some analgesics when you finish," the doctor directed.

"I will," MacAllister promised. She looked at him. "So…what brings you here, sir?"

Silent for a moment, Charles Winchester returned her gaze. "I read the posted surgery schedule. Nurse Parnelli was originally assigned to my table. Instead, Margaret assisted me. While I am certainly grateful for the change in surgical nurses, I am still puzzled why that substitution was made."

The Texan replied, "I know that Parnelli annoys you on a good day. Since I had already irritated you, I figured it would better if you had a nurse who actually knew, and cared, what she was doing for this session."

"And for that thoughtfulness, you were given this punishment detail."

"That's what friends do," Sarabeth remarked. She added, uncertain as to his reaction, "We are still friends, aren't we?"

"We most definitely are still friends," he agreed. "Sarabeth…," Winchester hesitated and then continued, "After this nightmare is over, I know that you are planning to visit Klinger in Ohio, the Hunnicutts in California, and even Pierce and his father in Maine. During your travels… do you think…perhaps, that you would come to Massachusetts…to see me and to meet my family?"

The Texan arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure you want me there?"

"Yes, I am quite certain of that. Through my letters, Honoria already feels like she knows you. I know that Mother will like you, also. It may take a little longer for Grand Mama Winchester and Father to thaw. I have no doubt, however, that you will charm them, as well. As for Cousin Alfred…I suspect you will 'pin his ears back' in no time."

Winchester smiled as MacAllister laughed at that comment.

"I reckon I can find time to stop by Boston," the woman agreed with a smile of her own. Her expression changing, she stared at the dark liquid in her mug, before looking at the man beside her. "I owe you an apology."

"It is I who must apologize."

"No, this was my fault," MacAllister shook her head. "When I requested to be assigned to a MASH unit, I wasn't looking for anything other than friendships with the people here. To my surprise, I found Mitch… and you. Two men; both of whom, I like very much."

Continuing, Sarabeth said, "Mitch doesn't think he's going to survive this latest mission. The uncertainty of his future got me to thinking about my future. And, as we know," she had a small grin, "thinking is a dangerous habit."

"For a few minutes, I forgot where we are; forgot what horrors we deal with 24 hours a day. Since Mitch made sure I knew how he felt; I just wanted to know where I stood with you. And that's not fair…to anyone. Any discussions about potential plans, or expressing feelings, should be done when we're all safe at home. Not here."

"I agree that this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion," Charles Winchester stated. He helped the woman to her feet. "However, when we are home, I hope that we can resume that conversation. I shall certainly try to have improved my communication skills by then."

He smiled at her. "For now, I must let you finish. We both need sleep. Our post-op duty will be here before you know it. Thank you, Sarabeth, for delivering me from Parnelli's ineptitude." The man started towards the exit.

"By the way," Winchester added, as he turned back to speak to her, "I plan to invite Monica Parnelli to my home, as well."

"What?!" The Texan was shocked at his statement.

Charles Winchester replied smugly, "I'm going to introduce her to Cousin Alfred. Provocateurs and plotters both…they deserve each other."

He enjoyed hearing MacAllister's laugh as he left the hospital building.


	66. 66

SIXTY SIX

* * *

Feb 25th: 0730 hours

With an exhausted yawn, B J Hunnicutt shuffled in to his canvas-covered home away from home. While his tent mates had had the chance to sleep, he had been drawn the first shift. Thankfully, Charles Winchester had arrived on time to take over post-op duty. And he was now ready to crawl into his cot.

Hawkeye was still sleeping. He had a smile on his lips and was making smacking sounds. Was he dreaming of a luscious blonde or a scrumptious lobster? B J smiled in amusement. He hated this place but he would always appreciate the friendships he had made here.

Spying the stack of letters on his bed, B J forgot his weariness. He eagerly looked at the return addresses. One was from his mother; another from Waggles, the dog; and a third from his wife. Hunnicutt read the one from his mother first. He was going to have to tell her how much trouble that baby picture had caused. He owed Sarabeth for covering his rear--in more ways than one.

The letter from the canine member of his family was next. Waggles, with Peg as interpreter, detailed his latest visit to the veterinarian's office. Apparently nibbling on some poisonous leaves, the dog had soon regretted his culinary choice. "_I'm real sorry about throwing up on your slippers, boss,"_ the note stated, "_but Mom said not to worry about it. She'll buy you a new pair when you come home."_

Chuckling at his pet's writing abilities (and his wife's imagination), Hunnicutt opened the final envelope. Taking out some loose papers, he admired the drawings from his daughter: a budding Picasso, for sure. Saving the best for last; settling onto his cot, the man excitedly pulled the rest of the sheets from their covering. They smelled faintly of Peg's favorite perfume. Sniffing them happily, he read:

_My dearest B J,_

_I have so much to tell you! _

_Yesterday, I got the sweetest letter from Mildred Potter. She sent me some recipes that she guarantees you'll love. And, since I had mentioned in my last letter to her, that I was still feeling sick in the mornings, she sent me some 'sure-fire' remedies to help cure it. I guess Colonel Potter is not the only one who practices medicine in that family. _

_I also got a note from Radar O'Reilly. He told me about the weather they were having in Iowa. And all about the work he was doing on his farm. He also said that his mother was doing good. She was a hoot at the party where I got to meet some of the families of your friends over there! _

_I'm so glad that we are keeping in touch with each other. It makes me feel closer to you._

_Today, I got a big package from Texas! Inside was the baby quilt that your friends at the 4077th made for us. Apparently, Sarabeth mailed it to her mother to finish it and then her mother sent it on to us. _

_It's so soft; with some of the most…unusual embroidered scenes. I can tell that it was made with a lot of love, however. I wrapped Erin in it and held her tight; pretending that you were here, holding both of us. Or all two and a half of us, I should say. _

_Mrs. MacAllister also sent me some diapers and receiving blankets and some cute little outfits. She said if I needed any thing else, to just let her know. And, she invited us to come to Texas to visit…or to stay...if we ever got tired of California. She sounds nice. I can't wait to meet her, and Sarabeth, and all of her brothers. They sound like so much fun in your letters._

_My friend Linda gave me some of her old maternity clothes. She's coming over this weekend to repaint the crib and help me hang some new wallpaper. And her husband is going to set up the trundle bed for Erin. He also said he'd fix that shutter that's been hanging loose since the last winter storm hit the coast. _

_But don't worry sweetheart, there will be plenty of 'little projects' waiting for you to tackle._

_I am still feeling sick in the mornings. Sometimes it's hard to take care of Erin when all I want to do is 'hug the toilet'. But, I'll be over this stage soon. _

_Waggles was sick last week. Have you read his letter, yet? The vet was real nice. I told him that I'd have to wait until the first of the month, when I got your allotment check, to pay him. He said that his son was fighting over there in Korea and that, as a 'thank you' to you for taking care of our soldiers; I didn't have to worry about it. I plan to pay him back, however._

_And on that subject, I talked to my old boss at the accounting office. He said that I could work part-time. Linda said she could take care of Erin during the day. Isn't that great? Of course, it will only be for a couple of months. Still the extra money will come in handy…. _

Frowning, B J set the letter aside. Instead of enjoying the news from home, he was getting depressed. Peg shouldn't have to depend on neighbors and well meaning strangers.

She had worked two jobs while he was going to medical school. That had bothered him…a lot. But, they had agreed, it was necessary so that he could concentrate on his studies. After Erin was born, he had promised his wife that she wouldn't ever have to work again. And now, having morning sickness, and having a toddler and a mutt to care for; she was going back to work…just to make ends meet.

The man from California groaned. He and Peg were partners in their marriage; they shared the duties and made the major decisions together. But still, deep down, he had the notion that he was the one who should provide the protection and the financial security for his family. And he was failing them.

The guilt gnawing at him, B J Hunnicutt fell into a fitful sleep.

A few short hours later, he was awakened by the dreaded call from the PA system. _"The results of the latest scrimmage are coming in, folks. It's the enemy-6; the Allies-0. Come one, come all, to the half-time activities in the triage compound."_


	67. 67

SIXTY SEVEN

* * *

Major Charles Winchester surveyed the row of beds in the main hospital ward. All of the patients were recuperating from their injuries. Most of them were still sleeping off the affects of their surgeries. He was returning from his rounds in the 2nd post-op area set up in the VIP tent. They were also recovering as expected. Fortunately, this shift was going well.

Lieutenant MacAllister looked up from the medical charts she was working on as he entered the building. She smiled at him. She was sitting at the desk with her feet propped up, just as he had instructed. Of course, he had to acknowledge with a grin, there was no telling how much walking to and from patient bedsides that she had been doing while he was gone.

Satisfied that no one needed his attention at the moment, the surgeon sat in a chair beside her. Winchester reached into his jacket pocket to examine the two letters that Corporal Goldman had delivered to him. The first one was from his sister Honoria. She hadn't sent a recording this time. That was too bad; he loved to listen to her voice. It made this stay in Purgatory easier to bear. The second was from his stockbroker.

Selecting that one, the man from Boston read it with keen expectation. Excellent. He had sold those stocks at their highest price. From studying the market changes, he had known they were going to fall soon. And that had given him a very nice profit.

Winchester was determining exactly where his earnings should be reinvested when he heard the dreaded call from the PA system: _"The results of the latest scrimmage are coming in, folks. It's the enemy-6; the Allies-0. Come one, come all, to the half-time activities in the triage compound."_

* * *

The commander of the 4077th was very tired. They had finished surgery in the wee hours of the morning and had been called back on duty soon afterwards. And had been working ceaselessly ever since. He squinted at the clock on the wall. What time was it? It really didn't matter. His people had been working too long…far too long…trying to save the lives of all these young soldiers. And so had he. Sherman Potter was feeling his age, right now.

This particular OR session had been a strangely quiet one, too. He knew no one had really gotten enough sleep before being called back on duty. Hawkeye had tried to initiate some of his famous surgical team interactions and Sarabeth had joined him in his 'pun'-ishments. But, B J Hunnicutt, his usual eager-to-jump-in partner, had not. He seemed…distracted…and disheartened.

They all did. And who could blame them. Colonel Potter straightened his shoulders. He forced the weariness from his face. He was, after all, charged with the responsibility and the duty of taking care of the personnel in this camp. That meant their emotional health, as well as their physical well-being.

"Say," he spoke to shatter the silence, "I just remembered what Mildred wrote in her letter. She said, this coming Sunday, after church, all of the women are getting together and baking us some loaves of bread. She said not only were they making regular bread but they would be sending us sourdough biscuits, and potato rolls, and apple bread, and strawberry, and lemon, and spice and maybe even some pumpkin bread. Won't that be a treat? I can't wait to sink my teeth into a slice of homemade bread, dripping with butter and honey."

"That sounds great, Colonel," Hawkeye Pierce agreed. "Tell your wonderful wife to ship them right away! My mouth is already watering."

"Sorry, sir. We don't have any butter," Igor, the assistant cook, who was currently holding up an x-ray for Doctor Pierce to review, reported sadly. He added, with more optimism, "But we do have some honey that Captain MacAllister left here."

"_Honey?_!!" Lieutenant Parnelli stated indignantly. "Why, that…."

"And, if we can get some fresh milk from one of the local farmers," a redheaded Texan interrupted quickly, "I can churn us up some butter in no time."

"Amazing," Major Winchester spoke for the first time. "You actually know how to make your own butter?"

"Sure," Sarabeth MacAllister answered. "Back home, we'd be sitting on the front porch. Fannin would be peeling potatoes, Travis would be shelling peas and I'd be churning butter. The rest of my brothers would be out doing chores around the ranch. And the three of us would be laughing and talking and teasing each other." They could hear her smile of remembrance behind her words. "It makes your arms tired, but I don't really mind making butter."

"Because the end product tastes so good," the colonel contributed. He remembered slathering fresh butter on his grandmother's hot biscuits.

"That's true," the woman replied. "But it's also because I could work the churning paddle with one hand and hold a book and read with the other." She laughed. "My Mama always said we had the best-educated butter around."

Smiling at that remark, the commander asked, "Anyone else have any good news from home? I know that Klinger and Goldman were moaning about the amount of mail they delivered to everyone." Potter had noticed there did seem to be more packages and envelopes dropped off at their outfit this time. That had made up for the absence of them the previous week. They must have been delayed, somewhere.

"I got a letter from my sister," Francis Mulcahy declared. He was waiting to help carry a patient to the recovery area.

"An epistle from your sister, the Sister?" Hawkeye Pierce asked with a grin. "To her brother, the Father?"

"The very same," the priest agreed. He explained that the nun had found a sponsor who was going to ship rice, flour, canned milk and blankets to the orphanage here. And she was organizing a church wide rummage sale; hoping to raise some money for the Korean children.

When he finished, Lieutenant Kellye Tanakhamara, who was usually reticent, announced that her brother, Tim and his fiancée, Alana, had set their wedding date for August. While working steadily beside Doctor Hunnicutt; she excitedly gave them the details of their plans.

As soon as she had stopped, Hawkeye Pierce took over. He didn't miss a stitch while informing the surgical teams of the latest escapades from Crabapple Cove. "Okay, B J, it's your turn," he declared. He had decided his California colleague had been too quiet for too long. "Klinger told me he dropped off some mail from home for you; including a message from Erin's four-legged 'brother', Waggles. What'd he say? No, wait. I know: _woof, woof, bow wow, woof_. Am I right?"

Captain Hunnicutt didn't reply.

"Come on, Beej, _speak_!" Pierce prodded with good-natured kidding.

"Our dog was sick last week. He ate something poisonous," Hunnicutt reported tersely. "Peg had to rush him to the vet's office."

"Is he all right?" Margaret Houlihan asked. Her concern was echoed by the others in the operating room.

B J nodded. "He's going to be okay. The bad part is…Peg didn't have the money to pay the vet."

"I'm sure he'll let you work something out," Colonel Potter remarked.

Sarabeth MacAllister added, in a reassuring manner, "Sure he will. My brother, Houston, says it's more important to help people take care of their animals; than it is to make money. He often accepts a couple of yard eggs or a slice of pie for payment."

"My Dad once received two jars of blueberry jelly in exchange for delivering a baby," Hawkeye contributed. "He said if it had been twins, he'd really be in the _jam_. Get it? Jam---like in jars?"

"Even for you, that's _spread_-ing it thin, sir," Sarabeth remarked. She shook her head in amusement. "And people claim my puns are bad."

From his end of the operating area, Charles Winchester observed, "As usual, Pierce is displaying his non-existent sense of humor."

"And, as usual," the man retorted, "Winchester is displaying his very-much-in-existence pretentiousness."

"Boys," Colonel Potter spoke sternly. "We have enough snipers outside; we don't need any sniping in here. So," he added with a grin, "both of you _can_ it."

The Chief Surgeon laughed as he stepped away from his table. He gestured for the corpsmen to carry this patient to the recovery room. "All right, Colonel, in the interest of _preserve_-ing peas and carrots, I'll stop." He waited for the next soldier to be brought in. "But B J has to tell us about his letter from Peg. I could smell her perfume from across the compound."

"I don't want to talk about it." Hunnicutt shook his head.

"Why? Is there some problem at home?" Pierce persisted.

"No. Not really." The man's tone was resentful. He said, "Peg was thrilled with the baby quilt that everyone here worked on. She got some recipes from the colonel's wife and some diapers from Sarabeth's mother. Her friend is giving her some maternity clothes. And her husband is doing some chores around our house."

"Sounds like everything's okay to me. There's nothing to be upset about."

"That's not the point!" The surgeon snapped in reply.

"So what is the point?" Pierce asked. He looked at his friend in concern.

"The point is: my wife is a good cook. She doesn't need any recipes from Missouri. And she doesn't need any diapers from Texas. She doesn't need a veterinarian's charity. And she especially doesn't need someone else's husband helping with repairs around the house!!"

"That's my job; taking care of my family. But I can't do anything because I'm stuck over here in this lousy stinking hellhole!" Giving in to the frustration and resentment that he was trying to contain, Doctor Hunnicutt flung the Halsted forceps he was holding as hard as he could against a wall of the operating room. The instrument fell to the floor with a clatter as the people stared at him in shock. Silence once again filled the surgical area.

Colonel Potter sighed to himself; so much for his efforts to improve the mood. He tried again. Clearing his throat, the senior officer asked, "What about you, Margaret? I noticed that you were reading something earlier. Anything worth sharing?"

Realizing that he was trying to salvage the situation, the charge nurse nodded. "It was nothing all that important, Colonel." She shrugged, "It was just a note from Donald."

"Really?" Hawkeye Pierce asked in disbelief. "I didn't know he could write."

"He probably had help," Major Houlihan commented dryly. "Actually, it's quite an informative letter." She went on to share its contents, "He's finally agreed, because of pressure from my lawyer, to return a portion of the money I placed in our joint savings account. But, he wrote that Mumsy is very distressed that I would be so crass and so lower class, as to expect reimbursement."

"Mumsy?" The Chief Surgeon questioned in delight. "He actually said 'Mumsy'? Well, that just goes to show you the Upper_ Crust _is a little _flakey_. Isn't that right, Major _Doughboy_?" He asked his fellow New Englander.

"Pierce, do us all a favor and go _flambé_ yourself," Charles Winchester sniffed in distain. He returned his attention to his surgery.

"Boys," the colonel rumbled a warning.

"Potter's a tough _cookie_," Doctor Pierce observed, speaking to the nurse who was assisting him.

"Yes, make sure you don't go off half-_baked_ on him," the Texan agreed with a laugh. Changing the subject, she added, "I got a letter from Crockett. He said that both he and Fannin are on their way to Seoul for some meetings. They're going to be there for at least a week."

Deliberately, MacAllister neglected to reveal the rest of the letter from her oldest brother. In code, Crockett had asked her to give out that information. He wanted to know if Colonel Flagg's spy system was still in place at the 4077th. Judging from the sharp look of interest on Monica's face; it wouldn't be long before the CID officer heard that tidbit. Whatever her brothers were really working on, it wasn't at a conference table in Seoul. The woman whispered a silent prayer for their safety.

Sherry Riggs, acting as anesthesiologist for Colonel Potter, laughed at Sarabeth's announcement of their travel plans. "Fannin told me that in his note, too. But he also said that he intended to slip away and spend most of his time sitting at a bar stool, sipping sake."

"I'd like to slip away to Seoul and sip sake," Hawkeye mumbled to himself. "Instead, I'll just have to settle for some sutures."

"Uh, everyone," B J Hunnicutt spoke again. "I'm sorry. Peg wrote a cheerful, chatty letter and I should be grateful that everything's going so well. It's just that; she shouldn't have to worry about money. She shouldn't have to deal with all of these things without me."

"War is hard on everyone, son," Colonel Potter said with kind wisdom. "The soldiers, the doctors, the nurses, the families back home; everyone pays a price. But your wife will be able to handle everything that comes her way. And you'll be proud of her for being able to do it."

"I know, Colonel. I'm already proud of her. I just…I just…miss her so," Hunnicutt admitted.

"Well, I can't give you a three-day pass to Mill Valley; but, I can bring a little bit of home, here. Corporal Hounder," the commander called to a passing medic, "have Sergeant Klinger make a call to California, as soon as he can. Put it through as 'top priority' on my authority."

"Right away, sir." Before the man could leave the room, however; the company clerk came running inside.

Holding a mask over his face, Klinger hastily reported, "Colonel, we've got a couple of ambulances on their way! And more after that."

More than one person in the hospital groaned in despair at the news.

"So who's free for triage?" Potter asked.

"I am," Major Winchester reported in a resigned manner. Giving his instructions for the care of his patient, he stripped the gloves from his hands and left the building.

"I'll be there in a minute," Doctor Hunnicutt called after him.

"And we all get stuck with another session in Hell's Kitchen," Pierce sadly observed.


	68. 68

SIXTY EIGHT

* * *

The 4077th wasn't the only MASH outfit to see action that day. The other hospital units were also unbelievable busy. At the 8063rd, charge nurse, Major Judy Parker staggered to her quarters. She was so tired! How many hours had she been standing at a surgical table? Too damn many, that was for sure. She hoped she'd be able to get more than a couple of hours sleep before she was called back on duty again.

Already unbuttoning her blouse, even before she was completely through the door, Major Parker stopped in surprise as she noticed the CID officer waiting for her inside. Colonel Flagg was sitting in a chair with his boots resting on her cot.

Enraged, she hissed, "Get your muddy feet off my bed and get out of here!"

Paying no attention to her angry words, Flagg insolently stated, "Call Colonel Blankenship and tell her you want MacAllister back here early."

The nurse answered defiantly, "I don't want her here--early or late."

"But I do," the man insisted.

"Why? Look, Colonel, if you want to see her, just go to the 4077th. You don't need to bring her here. I'm sure you can find some place to cuddle up with her there."

Standing abruptly, grabbing her arm, the man spoke in a menacing voice, "Don't tell me what to do. I know what to do. My mission is to save American lives by stopping the Communist threat by any means possible. And, by resisting me, it's obvious that your mission to delay my mission which makes going after you my mission; as soon I finish my mission."

Jerking her arm out of his grasp, Parker asked, "You've been into our drug cabinet, haven't you?"

"Cooperate with me or risk the consequences," she was warned.

"Drop dead," the nurse replied. She tried to walk away.

Blocking her path, the Intelligence Officer showed her two envelopes. "You might wish you were dead; when these letters are received. In this one," he indicated one addressed to the 4077th hospital unit; we can see your face quite well in the photograph. We can't see the man's face; but, I'm certain Major Houlihan will be able to identify his tattoo."

"And, that trip you're planning in Tokyo three weeks from now? Mrs. Hawthorne is going to be very interested in the details of your rendezvous with her husband, General Hawthorne. You're actually planning a game of 'escaped convict and farmer's daughter'? And bobbing for 'apples' in a hot tub?" The man stared pointedly at her opened shirt. The nurse hurriedly fastened the buttons.

"How do you know that?" She asked and then gasped as she realized that the only way he could have heard their talk. "That was a private conversation. You had no right!"

"I don't need anyone's permission to gather information for my mission," having said that, Colonel Flagg swaggered up to the charge nurse. "Make the call," he ordered, "Now!" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or I will show you how we interrogate our enemies."

"Okay. Okay," Major Parker agreed. "And you had better be gone when I come back!" She announced as she left her quarters.

Standing alone in the tent, the CID officer smiled in satisfaction. Things were definitely going his way. It was an unforeseen stroke of luck that MacAllister was going to be out of pocket for a week. The G2 officer had had the nerve to try to warn him off this plan. He said there'd be no dedicated air or ground support and that he'd be fighting against Zheng He alone.

But General Hawthorne had said otherwise. The commander had said the troops and the artillery would be there. He had also promised, "_You'll get everything you deserve_, _Flagg._" And the CID man didn't even have to show him the pictures that he had shown to Major Parker.

If everything went according to plan, he might even have Zheng He's head on that platter before MacAllister got back from Seoul. And if it didn't go as expected, he wanted the younger Texas sibling close at hand---just in case.


	69. 69

SIXTY NINE

* * *

Feb 26th: 1700 hours

As the last patient was carried from the operating room, Sergeant Klinger informed his commanding officer, "HQ says that's all of the injured we're expecting for a while. They say we can stand down."

"That's good," B J Hunnicutt replied, "Because I'm about to fall down."

"Me, too," Hawkeye Pierce agreed. He sat on the edge of his surgical table and then stretched his lanky frame on top of it. "Just wheel me over to the Swamp and roll me onto my cot," the doctor instructed the company clerk.

"Yes, sir." Gesturing to another medic, Klinger grabbed one end of the litter. Carefully, the men carried the Chief Surgeon to the changing area. "This is where you get off, Captain."

Reluctantly, Hawkeye stood. "This doesn't look like my stop," he observed. Before the man from Toledo could move away, Pierce lightly touched his sleeve. "Wait a minute, Klinger," he said and added in a low voice, "Bring Houlihan, Mulcahy and Sarabeth over here. After," the dark-haired man looked at the other doctors who were approaching, "they leave."

* * *

Other than yawns, the four men were silent as they changed from their blood-stained surgical attire to their olive-tinted everyday attire. As they filed out of the room, Pierce sat on one of the benches in the hallway. He started to loosen the laces of his boots. "Go ahead to the Swamp, Beej," Hawkeye directed. "And get the still warmed up. I must have a rock in my shoe."

"And a hole in your head," Charles Winchester contributed as he walked by. He ignored the tongue that was stuck out at him.

As soon as the three surgeons left the hospital building, the summoned officers arrived. "What is it, Pierce?" Major Houlihan asked. "And make it quick," she added. "MacAllister and I have the first post-op shift."

"First of all: Margaret, keep an eye on that Greek soldier. That kid is already missing part of his intestines; he doesn't need any additional complications to his Parthenon."

"Of course, sir," the charge nurse answered. "What else?"

"Second of all," the captain continued, "Father, I want you to cancel the poker game you had scheduled for tomorrow night."

The priest looked perplexed. "Why? I thought you were looking forward to that game, Hawkeye."

"I was. But you saw how B J acted in there. If he plays poker while he's worried about money…."

"…He may get too overwrought again," the blonde-haired nurse finished his sentence.

Pierce nodded. "Exactly. We don't want him to get that desperate again."

As the others concurred with his statement, Sarabeth MacAllister looked at them in confusion. "Sorry, I don't understand."

"Not long after he arrived here, B J became…concerned…about the financial situation at home," Father Mulcahy explained. "He was rather…anxious…to send money stateside to his wife." True to his nature, the man had no harsh criticisms for the surgeon.

Hawkeye Pierce had no such reluctance. "The gambling bug bit him hard! Our mild-mannered family man turned into a frantic betting fanatic. All of a sudden, instead of playing for match sticks or clean socks, B J was upping the ante to real money. It turned ugly."

"He didn't see anything wrong with five, ten or even twenty dollar raises," Sergeant Klinger remarked. "But that was too rich for my blood."

"For everyone's blood," Major Houlihan added. "It took some strong intervention on our part…."

"…And some timely counseling from Sidney Freedman," Hawkeye interrupted again, "To get him out of that frenzied frame of mind."

"And we don't want him to slip back into that," the redheaded nurse nodded in understanding.

"Right," the dark-haired surgeon said. "I think it's time to reinstate the 'Tokyo Children's Fund'. We can ask everyone who donated before to give something now."

"You heard him in the OR," Margaret protested. "He doesn't want charity. He's going to object to your plan."

Pierce shrugged, "So we won't tell him. We'll just send it straight to Peg and tell her not to say anything about it."

"No!" The other members of the group resisted that suggestion.

"You're asking her to lie. That's a sure way to ruin a marriage," the charge nurse stated emphatically. "Believe me, I know! First, you're told one lie; and then another; and another…."

Max Klinger took over, "…And pretty soon, you find out your whole marriage was a sham. You find out you've been replaced...by a sausage maker!"

"Or by a twenty-something brunette stationed in San Francisco!" Major Houlihan added.

"Hawkeye, there is the Commandment about giving false testimony," the priest pointed out, gently.

"Okay. Okay." The surgeon held up his hands in surrender. "We'll discretely collect money and send it to Peg. And we'll tell B J after it arrives in California."

"And if he finds out before then?" Sarabeth asked.

Hawkeye Pierce shrugged again. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

* * *

Colonel Potter finished soaking his feet in a tub of warm water. He reached for a towel. That felt better. At least one portion of his body didn't ache. Maybe now he could get a few hours sleep. He groaned when he heard the knock at his door. "I told you not to bother me unless the mess tent was on fire!" The commander called out to his unseen visitor.

"Sorry, sir," Corporal Goldman spoke from the other side of the door. "But Colonel Blankenship is on the line. She says she needs to speak to you. She says it's important!"

"Of course it is," the old soldier grumbled to himself as he reached for his boots. "On my way," he answered in a louder tone.

* * *

"…But don't you see, Colonel Potter? It's very encouraging that Major Parker asked to have MacAllister come back early. It's a sign that she really wants to improve the quality of her medical charts. That's why I've agreed to send the lieutenant over to the 8063rd, first thing in the morning," the Supervisory Board nurse was saying.

"But I haven't agreed to send her," the commanding officer of the MASH unit replied.

"We have already agreed that MacAllister was going back there," Colonel Blankenship replied with an edge to her voice. "Need I remind you that I'm in charge of the nurses in this sector?"

"And I'm in charge of all personnel in this outfit," Colonel Potter responded. He rubbed his temples and forced away his anger. "With heavy fighting expected near Kunsan; and with the 8063rd being located closer to that area; I don't feel comfortable sending one of my nurses up there at this time."

"Oh, don't worry about that," the woman stated. "That nice G-2 officer I talked to earlier today assured me that there would actually be very little activity in that area. In fact, he said that now was a good time to transfer nurses. Therefore, a helicopter will be stopping by around 0730 to take MacAllister to the 8063rd. The pilot will pick up her replacement after he drops her off."

Keeping his sigh to himself, Potter replied, "I'll inform Major Houlihan and Lieutenant MacAllister of the change in schedule." After disconnecting the call, he glared at the papers on his desk. All of the reports he had read contradicted what Blankenship announced so blissfully. He wondered just which Army officer in the G-2 branch had given her that crazy bit of information.

* * *

After disconnecting the call, Colonel Blankenship smiled as she thought about her unexpected visitor. With his dark hair, square jaw and muscular build, he had certainly been a welcomed interruption to her daily routine. And she had been impressed by his patriotism and his dedication to protecting Americans from the Communist threat that was everywhere, nowadays.

Too bad he hadn't stayed very long. She sighed; if only she were twenty five years younger….


	70. 70

_Author's Note: 70 & 71 have been revised_

SEVENTY

* * *

Feb 27th: 0600 hours

The sun had barely shifted above the horizon and already Lieutenant MacAllister was out and about. She had, once again, packed all of belongings into her footlocker and had delivered the container to the camp priest. "You shouldn't have any problems with varmints rooting through it this time, sir," the Texan assured the man with a grin.

Smiling at her in return, he asked if she needed another St. Christopher medal. The woman tapped her shirt and replied, "I'm still wearing the one you gave me before."

"Then I'll reinforce it with more prayers for your safe journey," Father Mulcahy promised.

* * *

MacAllister's next stop was to deliver her furry friend along with his bedding and bowls to his temporary quarters. "Be a good puppy, Ernie," the woman said as she gave him an affectionate ear rub. "And don't pee on the new nurse," she issued a warning.

"Only if she deserves it," Kellye answered with a smile. She reached for the little dog to give him a hug. He licked her chin in return. "Christie and I will take good care of him." The woman frowned. "You take care, too. From what Klinger says: Major Parker is really going to make your stay miserable."

"Probably," MacAllister agreed. The Texan grinned, "I'd rather muck out a barn filled with very upset cows than spend a week there." She added, "However; the sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back."

* * *

In Colonel Potter's office, the nurse received her final instructions from her commanding officer. "…Remember, Lieutenant, you're on temporary loan to that outfit. Get finished early, if you can. We're going to need you here."

* * *

Standing near the company clerk's desk, Sarabeth spoke to Corporal Goldman, "Please make sure to call my brother Crockett, to let him know where I'll be."

Acknowledging her request, he replied, "Don't worry, ma'am." Goldman indicated slips of paper held in place by a weight. "I still have the number from last week."

"Thanks," the woman smiled at him. Turning towards the door as Sergeant Klinger entered, she missed the clerk's slight frown as he shuffled through the sheets on his desk.

"Here you go, Lieutenant," Klinger handed the Texan his blue bead necklace. "I strengthened the curse by rubbing some crushed garlic on it. I guarantee this will keep you safe from anything…and anyone…you might encounter."

"Thanks, Sergeant." MacAllister accepted the 'evil eye' pendant, hung it around her neck and hid the jewelry beneath her shirt. She sniffed at the aroma coming from it and tried not to wince. "I'm sure it'll be very effective."

"You bet." The Toledo resident was proud of his gift.

Smiling at him in affection, Sarabeth said, "Since I'm going to miss the Paymaster's visit this afternoon, will you call my brother Milam back home? Ask him to sell a couple head of my cattle and send the money to you-know-who."

"I'll take care of it. And, I'll have the jeep ready whenever the chopper is within range."

"Thanks, again, Klinger. I need to talk to Major Houlihan. Then, I'll be in the Swamp waiting for my chariot, O most noble camel driver," MacAllister remarked as she walked to the door.

* * *

"…I talked to Colonel Potter and then called Blankenship last night." Major Houlihan was saying. She and her second-in-command nurse were sitting in her quarters, having a last cup of coffee together. "The colonels and I made a list of things that you will be expected to do. And a list of things Parker can not assign you to do. You can help with triage and surgery, if they need it. But you will not be pulling double shifts nor doing any of her scut work. Blankenship said she would inform Parker of all this before you arrived."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm hoping it won't be as bad as all that," MacAllister noted as she accepted the documents from the other woman.

Margaret Houlihan shook her head. "I know Judy Parker. And this will not be a pleasant experience."

"Oh well," the Texan shrugged in surrender. "I reckon I'll just have to ride the horse I draw." Changing topics, she said, "Major, I think someone should start working on the next set of comprehensive progress reports while I'm gone. Just to give us a head start on them…before everything starts jumping around here."

"Good idea. Who would you recommend? Campbell, Riggs or Kellye would be my first choices," Houlihan stated.

"Well-l-l," the younger woman hesitated. "They're not exactly who I had in mind."

Hearing the mischief in her voice, Margaret Houlihan looked at Sarabeth MacAllister in sudden suspicion. "No...surely not! Lieutenant Parnelli?!" The woman was incredulous. "The same nurse who already thinks she has too much work to do?!!"

"I reckon she'll take this assignment," MacAllister drawled confidently, "especially if she is offered an incentive---say---_temporary_ second-in-command status?"

"Second-in-command?!" Dumbfounded, Houlihan stared at the redheaded woman. "And I thought Klinger was the only one around here trying for a Section Eight."

"Have you ever heard the expression: _be careful what you wish for; because you just might get it_?" The younger nurse grinned impishly. "Parnelli wants my job so bad, she can taste it. She thinks it's an easy assignment that doesn't require much effort. We know better, of course. But, if she officially volunteers for this additional responsibility...."

"…Then she will be expected to fulfill _all_ of the duties that are associated with it. And, if she does not...." the major smiled thoughtfully. "Hm-m-m. That does present some possibilities."

* * *

At the knock on his tent door, B J Hunnicutt opened it and bowed grandly to the woman standing there. "Enter, my lady."

"Thank you, kind sir." Noticing his twitching nose, Sarabeth grinned at him, "Klinger's necklace is keeping me safe."

"Safe from all vampires, I see. Or is it werewolves that are bothered by garlic?"

"At this strength; both, I think."

"Good. Have a seat…over there," the man indicated a chair further away from his location.

With a soft laugh, the woman accepted the chair he offered to her. Noticing that Hawkeye Pierce was asleep, she asked in a quieter tone, "Where's Charles?"

"He said something about making himself presentable. But that he would be back in time to escort you up the hill." Having said that, Captain Hunnicutt returned to Major Winchester's desk and picked up his pen with a flourish. "And now, if you will excuse me, I want to finish this letter to my lovely wife."

"You are aware that you're using Charles's most expensive stationery, aren't you?" MacAllister asked, with an arched eyebrow.

"Of course," B J Hunnicutt smirked, "Nothing but the best for my Peg."

She grinned back at him. "Tell her I said howdy." Gesturing to the man on the cot, she asked, "How long has Hawkeye been sleeping?"

"Only about an hour."

"I hate to disturb him. But I did promise him I wouldn't ever leave without saying goodbye." Bending over the man, gently shaking his shoulder, she whispered, "Hawk, wake up."

"Five more minutes, Dad," the man mumbled in reply.

"It's Sarabeth. Hawkeye, wake up for a second."

Sniffing the air, Pierce, still snoozing, said, "Um-m-m. Garlic bread. Are we having spaghetti, too?"

"Hawkeye," the woman shook his shoulder again, "It's time for me to go. I want to say goodbye."

"Okay. Goodbye," he replied drowsily.

Shaking her head, Sarabeth gave up. She smiled at Hunnicutt in amusement. "He won't remember any of that."

"I'll vouch for you."

* * *

Monica Parnelli watched as Klinger drove Winchester and MacAllister up to the helicopter landing area at the top of the hill. She hurried over to the hospital office. She'd have about fifteen minutes, before he came back, to make her call. Colonel Flagg had better appreciate her efforts, the woman thought in annoyance.

With the door closing loudly behind her, Parnelli stopped short in disappointment. The room was not empty. Roy Goldman had moved the clerk's desk away from its usual position. He was on his hands and knees, peeking behind it, obviously searching for something. Her arrival startled him and he raised his head, sharply, against a corner of the heavy desk.

"What are you looking for?" Monica asked.

Swallowing the words he wanted to say, the corporal rubbed his head as he straightened. "Just trying to find a piece of paper with the number I need. You want something, Lieutenant?" The man asked in irritation.

"I was…just wondering…." The nurse tried to think of a plausible explanation, "Uh…when is the Paymaster coming?" She finished with a satisfied smile.

"This afternoon, just like the colonel announced earlier." Corporal Goldman tersely replied. "Excuse me Lieutenant; I've got work to do."

Once outside the door, Monica smiled. If Goldman was looking for Colonel MacAllister's number, he'd never find it. She had made sure of that. As for her calling Colonel Flagg, she shrugged. She'd try again later.

* * *

At the top of the hill, the three members of the hospital unit pulled their jackets closer around their bodies. They huddled together for warmth as the helicopter approached. "This wind is definitely picking up," MacAllister noted. She held her canvas hat to her head to keep it from blowing away.

"There's supposed to be a storm coming through later this morning," Klinger reported.

"Perhaps you should wait until this afternoon, my dear," Major Winchester observed. "I know from experience how quickly these windstorms can move in; and how much havoc they can wreak."

"Boy, do we ever!" Sergeant Klinger agreed. He shuddered at that shared memory.

"I've flown with Fannin when he was crop dusting. Being in a helicopter with a little wind is nothing compared to the sheer terror my brother has put me through," the woman replied with a grin.

They bent away from the turbulence of the rotors as the aircraft landed. The pilot called to the woman, "Better hop to it, Lieutenant. We've got to beat this front."

"Be right there," she called. Smiling at the surgeon, she said, "Speaking of hopping…why did the rabbit like to go to the Hawaiian Islands?"

Charles Winchester shook his head in resignation. "I have no idea," he admitted.

"So he could say he was '_hare_ today and gone to_ Maui'_." Sarabeth laughed at his pained expression. She grabbed up her satchel. "Bye, Charles. I'll call when I get there," the woman said as she climbed into the passenger's seat.

* * *

With Klinger guiding their vehicle back to camp, Major Winchester was trying to think of a suitable rejoinder. Rabbits. What did he know about rabbits? They had soft fur, twitchy noses, liked carrots and multiplied rapidly. That was it. '_Why do rabbits make good accountants?'_

He couldn't wait until she called. He knew she'd laugh at that question. Winchester didn't realize he had made any sounds until he saw the company clerk studying him from the corner of his eye. "Are you okay, Major?" The man questioned.

"I am perfectly all right, Sergeant. Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard you chuckle."

"Don't be absurd, Klinger. Winchesters do not chuckle," the older man replied in his best offended New England accent. On second thought, he wouldn't ask her that when she called. He decided he'd wait until she returned. Not only did he want to hear her laugh; he wanted to see her expression when he sprang that one on her.


	71. 71

_Author's Note: 70 & 71 have been revised_

SEVENTY ONE

* * *

As soon as B J Hunnicutt heard the jeep stop outside his quarters, he slammed the desk top shut, shoved his letter under his pillow and leaped onto his bed as Major Winchester walked inside.

"Hi, Charles. Did Sarabeth get away okay?" The man questioned casually as he reached for a book beside his bed.

"The lady from Texas is on her way to tame the 8063rd," Charles Winchester replied in a distracted manner. He looked at his desk with a frown; looked at Hawkeye Pierce who was now snoring loudly; and looked suspiciously at the man from California who was lounging on his cot. He glanced at his desk again.

"Is something the matter?" Hunnicutt asked with an innocent expression.

"I could have sworn…." With a shake of his head, Winchester didn't finish his thought. Pausing to glare at the Chief Surgeon, he stated, "I'm due in post-op. Good luck trying to read with that cacophony coming from Pierce's corner."

When Charles left the tent, B J removed the elaborately monogrammed writing paper from beneath his pillow. With a pleased smirk, he picked up his pen and continued his letter.

* * *

Sergeant Klinger waited for Major Winchester to enter the hospital building. Once the officer was inside, the company clerk examined the signpost near the Swamp. Earlier, when he had helped Lieutenant MacAllister into the jeep for the ride up to the helicopter landing zone, she had softly touched his arm. He had followed her secretive gaze to the highest point on the pole. Somehow, the 'Boston' sign had been positioned as the uppermost designation of home. Klinger had nodded in silent understanding. He knew she was asking him to put her 'Texas' board back on top.

After he placed that call to her home state…would that be a _cattle call_? Klinger wondered in amusement…he'd come back out and take care of that little matter. He'd hide the ladder for a while, too. The man from Ohio smiled in anticipation. He enjoyed seeing the man from Massachusetts sputter and fume about the order of those signs as much as the woman from Texas did.

After that, he'd put the padlock on her tent door, like Major Houlihan had requested. Although why the major thought it was necessary was beyond him. But, the sergeant shrugged off his concern; thinking wasn't always the best thing to do in the Army. By the time he got finished with all of those chores, the lieutenant should be calling to announce her arrival at the other MASH unit.

* * *

Major Houlihan sighed in annoyance as she crossed the compound. Corporal Goldman had just delivered a message from the helicopter pilot who had picked up MacAllister. He radioed in that the wind speeds were escalating and that he would be forced to wait out the storm at the 8063rd. Which meant the arrival of the replacement nurse would have to wait until this afternoon…maybe even until tomorrow. Well, now was as good a time as any to see if Parnelli wanted the assignment she was going to offer her.

The charge nurse laughed to herself. Of course Monica Parnelli would want this assignment. But, would she still want it after she found out how much work it entailed? There was only way to find out.

Entering the mess test, the major called out to the dark-haired nurse who was standing in the chow line. "Parnelli, after you eat, see me," she ordered as she kept the door from slamming in the increasing breeze.

"What did I do?" The younger woman whined in complaint.

* * *

"…Think about it very carefully before you decide, Parnelli. This job has many responsibilities. There are a multitude of reports that must be completed by strict deadlines. You're going to have to go through all of the surgical charts and duty schedules to compile the needed information. And then you'll be…."

Monica Parnelli quit listening to Houlihan's explanation. Second-in command! Of course she wanted that assignment. First, she'd move into MacAllister's tent; throw out her belongings; rearrange the furniture to suit herself; and then, sample some of that brandy that the redhead kept for Major Winchester's visits.

And, if that little mutt even thought about urinating on her pant legs again; she'd shove him into one of the cages leftover from Radar's menagerie. And guess who she'd order to clean the latrines? Kellye and Riggs, that's who. That would show them! That way, she could get back at those MacAllister brothers at the same time! And Thompson and Campbell would be scrubbing….

"Lieutenant, are you listening to me?" The officer's annoyed voice cut across the other woman's daydreams.

"Sure am, Major," the nurse replied. "When can I start?"


	72. 72

_Author's Note: 70 & 71 have been revised _

SEVENTY TWO

* * *

"…And here we are…safe and sound," the helicopter pilot reported to his passenger as the skids touched the ground. He gave a silent prayer of thanks and forced his hand to release its white knuckled grip from his control stick.

"Thanks, Dan," Sarabeth MacAllister replied with a strained smile. She kept her sigh of relief to herself. "That was some mighty fine flying. I reckon you're one of the best chopper pilots in Korea."

"THE best chopper pilot in Korea," Captain Daniel Rivers corrected her with a lopsided grin.

Her smile was more genuine as the woman drawled, "I have already heard that claim from my brother."

"Fannin's not the only one with bragging rights around here," he replied with another grin. Shutting down the engine, the pilot gave the 'all clear' signal to the man waiting nearby.

"Welcome back to the 8063rd, Lieutenant," the enlisted man spoke to the visiting nurse as he helped her out of the helicopter seat. A sudden gust slammed into them, snatching off their caps and sending the pieces of cloth tumbling down the landing area. The two struggled to stand upright.

"Thanks, Private. Looks like we just made it," the woman said. She tried to push her hair out of her face. "This squall line is really moving through fast!"

The helicopter pilot came around from the other side of his aircraft. Standing near her, acting a wind break, he escorted the woman to the waiting jeep. "Get the lieutenant inside," he ordered. "As soon as I tie this bird down, I'll be there."

"Yes, sir. Major Parker said she looking forward to seeing you again."

* * *

"…Look, Corporal, I have to call the 4077th," Lieutenant MacAllister was explaining to the company clerk. "My commanding officer ordered me to notify him immediately upon arrival."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I have orders to not let you use the phones. I'm real sorry," the man apologized again.

Raising an eyebrow in exasperation, the woman tried another tactic. "You look tired. Why don't you go get a cup of coffee? I'll wait here for you. And…take care of things while you're gone."

"I can't do that." Seeing her stubborn expression, he reluctantly started the communication connections. "If Major Parker finds out about this, I'll be scrubbing latrines for the rest of the war," the clerk grumbled.

"I'll be brief, I promise."

* * *

"…Be sure to tell Major Winchester that it was a _hare_-raising experience," MacAllister was soon informing Max Klinger. She was also watching the 8063rd company clerk who was staring, nervously, at the outside door. He gestured for her to hurry.

"And, Sergeant, please don't forget to call…." The crackling noises normally heard in the background suddenly ceased. "Hello? Klinger? Hello?" She spoke into the receiver. "Looks like the line went dead," the woman reported as she started to hand the phone back to the anxious clerk.

"What is going on here?!" The head nurse of the MASH unit exclaimed as she entered the office building.

Seeing the man's look of panic, the Texan seized the handset, "For the last time, Corporal, I said…let me call the 4077th!"

Following her lead, the clerk grabbed the instrument back from her. "And for the last time, Lieutenant," he stated, "I said…only authorized personnel are allowed to use this phone! And you aren't one of them."

"Of course, you aren't," the senior female officer agreed. "And you don't have time to waste, anyway. Come along, Lieutenant. Colonel Woodridge wants to see you and then I have a number of things for you to work on."

"Yes, ma'am," the visiting nurse replied formally. At the exit, she paused long enough to wink at the man.

After the door closed behind the two women, the company clerk sat down heavily in his chair. That was close! Fortunately, Parker hadn't realized that the Texan had already finished most of her conversation. He tried the phone again. It was definitely dead. With a sigh, he wondered how long the communication lines would be down.

Being without the phones was never a good thing. It made getting ambulance notification and ordering supplies very difficult. He'd better get out the field radios and hope they'd have enough range. And then, he'd stop by the mess tent. With the slight scent of garlic floating around his office, he suddenly realized that he was hungry.

* * *

Climbing down from the pole, carrying his eavesdropping equipment and pocketing his wire snips, Colonel Flagg smiled to himself. He had allowed MacAllister enough time to confirm her safe arrival. She wouldn't need to call anyone else. And no one would need to call her. Now to strategically sever a few more wires; and then, the next stage of his plan would be in place.

It would be difficult for the medical personnel at the various hospital units to speak with each other. They would still be able to bounce signals off the remaining communication towers, however. There would just be more confusion and crossed messages than usual. And that confusion was a good thing…for him, anyway.

* * *

Inside the mess tent, Parker led MacAllister to the commanding officer and the surgeons who were sitting at one of the tables. The head nurse then moved to another table where the chopper pilot was drinking some coffee. He gave the redheaded woman an encouraging nod before turning his attention to his new seat mate.

With a smile for him, the Texan focused on the other nurses and enlisted men who were also present. She greeted each by name. A few of them, hesitantly, returned her smile. Most glanced at the senior female officer and then hastily looked away. Sarabeth sighed to herself. This was going to be a long week.

Lieutenant Colonel Woodridge unenthusiastically returned her salute. "Just so you know; I expect things to be done by the book," the man curtly explained without any further courtesy. "You're here to work on the medical charts, only. If we need you in surgery, you'll be notified. Otherwise, stay out of our way. And do things by the book. Got that?"

"Understood, sir," MacAllister responded. She had never met Frank Burns; but, since Hawkeye claimed Woodridge was his identical twin, Major Burns must have been a real martinet. What had Major Houlihan seen in him?

Two of the other surgeons barely nodded their heads at her before returning to their meals. The third man, however, grinned at the redhead. He stood and extended his hand to the nurse. "Welcome back! You're still as purty as a speckled pup!" the doctor said in a slow drawling voice similar to her own.

As they shook hands, Sarabeth smiled at his friendly greeting. "Captain Dupree, it's good to see you again."

"Roy. The name's still Roy," the man from Arkansas reminded her. He sniffed the air and struggled to keep a straight face.

MacAllister laughed at his expression and explained about her 'evil eye' necklace.

Captain Dupree smiled in relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were a might whiffy on the lee side. So, what is my old pal Chuck Winchester doing?"

"You actually call Charles Winchester, _Chuck_?" The woman asked in astonishment.

"Why not? That's his name," Dupree replied with a shrug. "And how is J B? And that baby-sized still of theirs? Have they got it producing anything stronger than lemonade, yet?"

Before the nurse could answer him, Major Parker called to her. "You don't have time to chitchat." She noticed the company clerk entering the area, "Corporal, show her where she'll be working and staying. I'll check on you later, Lieutenant."

"Looking forward to it, ma'am," the Texan replied politely. It was, for sure and for certain, going to be a long week.

* * *

Standing inside the doorway of the medical supply room, Lieutenant MacAllister stared at the jumbled piles of files. She lifted an eyebrow in aggravation. "This looks like every scrap of paper in this camp was just thrown in here."

The corporal was apologetic, "Since you were coming back in a week, the major said to just leave everything for you to take care of. Some of us tried to keep it in order, but…." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Sarabeth nodded her head in understanding. "Is everything in here? Or will I have to search for records elsewhere in camp?" His forlorn expression told her all she needed to know. "I'll start with the hospital to see what paperwork is there."

"And I'll set up a cot and a portable heater," the company clerk said. "We were going to put you in the VIP tent; but we had some Chinese prisoners brought in last night. Major Parker said, since you would be working in the storeroom, you might as well…."

"Stay here," the woman finished his sentence. Straightening her shoulders and exhaling slowly, she turned to the company clerk and smiled. "While you're at it, could you bring me a pot of coffee? I have a feeling I'm going to need it. Also, Corporal," she added, "would you find me another cap? I'm supposed to wear one all the time. Mine seems to have _gone with the wind_."

At the 4077th hospital unit, someone would have smiled or at least groaned at her pun. Hawkeye or B J would have leaped right in with a suitable remark. This man simply gave her a blank look. Captain Pierce was right; there was no sense of humor lurking around here.

* * *

Lieutenant MacAllister left the hospital with her clipboard full of notes. When the head nurse was not hovering nearby, the others nurses were more friendly; and more helpful.

Her last stop was the VIP tent where the prisoners of war were being held. The duty nurse, Captain Grant, who usually took care of pre-op, should be able to give her some more information on their latest batches of patients. The Military Police guard opened the door for her.

Four injured Chinese soldiers, captured by a Marine patrol, had been taken to the 8063rd. After receiving treatment, the prisoners had been moved to the VIP tent for their confinement. They were resting quietly on their cots when the nurse arrived.

Disheveled from the wind, the Texan was smoothing out her braid when one of the enemy soldiers suddenly sat up and stared at her. Pointing at MacAllister, he began talking and gesturing wildly. The other three joined in, as well.

"Settle down!" The guard inside the tent yelled at the captives. "Ma'am, I think you'd better leave." He said to the redheaded woman.

"What are they saying?" She asked.

The other MP, hurrying in from outside, answered her question. "This one's saying something about you being a '_fire-haired demon_'. He thinks you're here to kill him."

"Sergeant, ask him why he thinks I'm going to kill him."

Acting as a translator, the military officer questioned the prisoner. After a few exchanges, he offered as an explanation, "He says a '_fire-haired_ _demon_' appeared in their camp two nights ago. The '_demon_' said he would tear out the livers of all those who didn't surrender. These men believed him. Apparently, he looked like you. Now, they're afraid that you are here to finish them off."

Realizing that she probably did look like their night time visitors, MacAllister kept that knowledge to herself. "Please tell them, that since they are no longer fighting, they no longer have anything to fear from the '_demons_'."

"I'll tell them, Lieutenant." The MP answered. "You need to go. Now!"

"All right." The woman looked at the other nurse. "When you get off duty, would you come to see me? I need to ask you about the pre-op records."

Outside the tent, MacAllister smiled and whispered, "Keep spooking them, big brother."

* * *

Sitting at her makeshift desk in the medical storeroom, Sarabeth searched through another stack of folders. Why was it so hard for these people to keep triage, pre-op, surgery and recovery charts on the same patient in the same chart? Or least in the same surrounding area? At this point, she'd settle for them being in the same country! "I sure drew a horse that likes to sunfish this time," she muttered.

A knock on the door was followed by a smiling Roy Dupree. "Howdy, Sarabeth," he said, adding a few extra syllables to her name with his Arkansas twang. "I know you're used to drinking that iced tea my buddy J B thinks is gin, so I brought you some of the REAL stuff. This will peel the paint off your barn door, I guarantee it." He gestured to the tray in his hand. "And here's some razorback jerky, mayhaw jelly and crackers, too. I thought you might be hungry enough to eat a sow and nine pigs by now."

"And chase the boar a half-a-mile," the Texan responded with a wide grin. "Thanks, Roy. Grab up a crate and have a seat."

As the man poured her a drink from the jug, she asked, "You didn't happen to bring your firearm, did you?"

"Just pure firewater," the surgeon answered. "Why do you want one?"

The woman gestured to the back portion of the wooden shed. "Some of the rats scampering around over there are bigger than my Mama's German Shepherds."

"I didn't bring my six-shooter. But, back home, I'm known as the Champion Rock Skipper of the Ouachita River," Dupree declared proudly.

"I'm a pretty good rock chunker, myself," the woman confessed.

"Well, let's go get 'em, girl. Or better yet, just twirl your garlic necklace around for a while. They'll be leaving faster than a flea can hop."

Sarabeth laughed. Charles Winchester might find this man annoying; she liked him, however. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.


	73. 73

SEVENTY THREE

* * *

"...And, Sergeant, please don't forget to call…." The crackling noises normally heard in the background suddenly ceased.

"Hello? Lieutenant? Are you there?" Max Klinger questioned in the silence. He tried to reestablish the connection with the 8063rd. No good. The line was dead. Luckily, he had already reached Texas and had spoken to Milam. The rancher had promised him that he would have the money on its way to California in no time.

The company clerk shook his head. He'd better let the colonel know, right away. And then he'd make certain the field radios were working. Until the lines were repaired, contact with the rest of the units was going to be sporadic, at best. And, if the communication lines were cut, the transportation lines would probably be next.

* * *

The commander of the 4077th MASH unit had a few choice words when he heard the news. He already had the enlisted men securing the camp; pounding tent stakes deeper into the ground and removing lightweight objects that could become unguided missiles in this storm.

The last time Colonel MacAllister had talked to the hospital commander, he had urged Potter to stockpile all of the medical and essential supplies he could get his hands on. Fortunately, the old soldier had taken the G-2 officer's advice. Unfortunately, their recent OR sessions had put a dent in those provisions. They were, undoubtedly, going to need more than they had available. He called a senior staff meeting to discuss the issue.

* * *

The banging noises outside his quarters suddenly jarred Hawkeye Pierce awake. He jerked to an upright position on his cot. "What is it? Are we being shelled?"

"No, it's just friend fire," B J replied. He was using the wax seal with the Winchester family crest to fasten his letter. "Storm's moving in. Colonel Potter's got everyone busy making sure we don't move out with it."

"And I thought it was Charles snoring," Hawkeye reported with a yawn. Reaching for his pants, he said, "I had a funny dream. I was at home and my Dad put a plate of garlic bread on the table. And then Sarabeth suddenly appeared…."

"Let me guess," Hunnicutt interrupted, "she served you spaghetti."

"How'd you know?" The dark-haired surgeon asked in amazement.

His tent mate gave him a secretive smile.

Before Hawkeye could pressure him for a better answer, Corporal Goldman knocked at the Swamp door. "The colonel's calling a senior staff meeting, sirs." He announced out and hurried away.

* * *

This wouldn't be so bad after all, Monica Parnelli thought to herself. In fact, this was going to be good. With her clipboard in hand, she headed towards the hospital office. Her first staff meeting! And she had a list of assignments waiting for every one of the nurses--all ready to be posted. Yes, this was going to be great.

* * *

Heavy-eyed with lack of sleep, Captain Pierce nonetheless noticed that Margaret Houlihan's assistant was lacking the freckles and red hair he normally associated with her. He blinked and looked at the woman again. She was definitely not the woman who proudly hailed from Texas.

"What gives?" He asked in confusion.

"Lieutenant Parnelli is my temporary second-in command," Major Houlihan explained, "until MacAllister returns."

"Sarabeth's gone?" Hawkeye questioned.

"Egad, the man's astute," Major Winchester remarked. He folded his arms across his chest and stared contemptuously at the Chief Surgeon. "She's at the 8063rd as we speak; or rather, as I speak and you babble."

"She can't be there. She promised she would always say goodbye," he objected angrily.

"She tried to," Captain Hunnicutt explained, "several times. Sarabeth just couldn't get you awake enough to make you understand what she was saying."

"Well, she should have tried harder," the man replied peevishly.

"She did try," Hunnicutt repeated.

"Did not."

"Did too."

Interrupting their squabble, Charles Winchester noted in a smug tone, "She said goodbye to me."

"Major," Father Mulcahy spoke with gentle admonishment, "I don't think you're helping any."

"I wasn't intending to help," the man from Boston replied with a note of disdain.

"Will all of you stop it?!" Major Houlihan stated in an Army Officer Tone of Voice that would have made a drill sergeant proud. She glared at the men. "We have a serious problem here! Now, be quiet so that the colonel can finish...or you'll be wearing my boot print on your backsides!" Having announced that, the nurse daintily pushed her hair back out of her eyes, folded her hands in her lap, and said, demurely, "Please continue, Colonel."

The commanding officer had to smother his smile. "Thank you, Major. Now, here are the things we need to get done…."

* * *

Exiting the building, Hawkeye Pierce resumed his argument with his tent mate, "Did not."

In exasperation, B J Hunnicutt replied, "Yes. She. Did."

"Did not. Did not. Did not…."

* * *

Major Houlihan called a staff meeting of her own. She had assignments for the rest of the nurses. In case there was a supply shortage, she wanted a complete inventory of every provision they might need. She wanted accurate counts of every pill in every bottle, all personal sewing kits gathered, the instruments sterilized, surgical trays and bandages readied, linens washed, blood collections started; and anything else that needed to be done.

The major ended her speech with the words, "Remember, Colonel Potter wants a complete list of needed supplies ready to pass along to the first person who comes this way." Personally, she was hoping that replacement nurse would get here soon. She had a feeling they were going to need her.

Lieutenant Parnelli tried to hide her yawn. The colonel's staff meeting had been boring. And she hadn't even gotten to present her assignment list. Major Houlihan's meeting was boring, too; except, she liked that part about counting pills. Monica could imagine supervising Kellye, who would be performing that task. _Only 497 pills, you say? They're supposed to have 500. Count them again. _She was grinning at the thought, when she realized the charge nurse was speaking to her.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" Margaret Houlihan asked in a mild tone. Inside, she was seething. Had Parnelli heard a single word she had said?

"No, ma'am," the younger nurse assured her.

"Glad to hear it." She indicated a large stack of medical charts sitting on the table nearby. "The end-of-the-month reports are due. Here are all of the patients we've seen this month. I-Corps always wants to know many bowel resections, amputations, renal constructions, etc. that occur during each OR session. Plus, they require the name, rank, nationality and type of injury for each soldier; and most of the same information for the civilians we've treated."

Seeing the younger nurse's growing look of dismay, Major Houlihan continued, "You'll need to look through all of the charts, compile the information and type the reports by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Monica Parnelli squeaked.

"Yes, tomorrow. They're due the first day of the new month. And, of course, Colonel Potter and I will need time to review them before we can send them off."

"Tomorrow?" She asked again.

"Yes. Why are you repeating yourself? This is what my second-in-command does. Surely you didn't think she just sits on her duff, ordering the other nurses around, did you?"

"No," Monica whispered.

"You can handle this, can't you, Parnelli?" The senior officer didn't ease up on the younger member of her staff. "After all, you did agree to perform all of the duties of this position. And you did acknowledge what would happen if you didn't perform all these duties, didn't you?" Major Houlihan asked in a syrupy voice. At the slight nod from the woman whose face was growing pale, the head nurse of the 4077th stated briskly, "Good. Get busy, Lieutenant; you're wasting time."

Walking out of the room, Margaret Houlihan smiled to herself. Parnelli looked like she was going to faint. The major knew that MacAllister always kept the monthlies up to date. Probably only the last few days would need to be added to the report before it was ready to go. She'd see how far Parnelli progressed, on her own, before she made that information available to the nurse. _I wonder if she'll complain the next time she has to disinfect the OR? _The charge nurse thought in amusement.

And speaking of wasting time, she needed to see if those two nitwit surgeons had stopped arguing yet. They could take care of the blood collections. And she wanted Winchester, too. She'd find something for him to do, as well.


	74. 74

SEVENTY FOUR

* * *

In a small metal building, a redheaded soldier was pacing restlessly. He didn't like the sound of that gale howling outside. Were he home, his family might be heading for the root cellar right about now. Here, they would just have to wait until it died down. And he didn't like to waste time, either. The only good thing about this storm; was that Zheng He and his men were also out in it.

"Have you been able to reach anyone, yet?" He asked with a calm drawl that concealed his agitation.

His radioman shook his head. "Not really, Colonel. The reception's piss poor. I'm getting bits and pieces of several conversations but no one seems to be able to hear us. I did manage to overhear Colonel Hodges telling someone they were working on the communication lines. But he said there were so many that had been cut and now, with this strong wind, there might be even more knocked down."

"Terrific," the man remarked with dry sarcasm. "Keep trying. As soon as this lets up, I'll send Fannin up in his chopper. Maybe he'll be able to reach the 4077th with his radio. Potter needs to know the cow pies are fixin' to hit the fan. And my little sister needs to be told to stay put." Crockett MacAllister grinned, "Of the two, I expect only Colonel Potter will listen to me."

Seeing his younger brother smirking at him, the Texan smiled in return. Their youngest sibling was notorious for her hard-headedness. Now where did she get that from, he wondered.

Gathering up the latest recon maps, the officer called his men together; might as well hold the briefing while they were waiting.

* * *

"…Here's where we're supposed to be setting up our observation post," the man indicated an area on the map. "But here," he moved his markers to a totally different sector, "through no fault of his own, our pilot is going to have to make an emergency landing. So, we'll take roost here, instead; which, coincidently, is within shouting distance of our old friend, the general. I'm hoping we run into him, again."

The soldiers around him had grim, determined smiles. This time, the self-styled 'Butcher of Korea' would not be allowed to escape.

"It's also close enough to pull Flagg's garbanzos out of the fire, if need be," Fannin MacAllister observed.

"He's another one who doesn't listen to me," Crockett remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. "There are several British Commonwealth outfits acting as outposts of resistance ahead of the main battlefields in this area, as well. And a battalion aide station, also. As soon as wind dies down, we're…."

* * *

"As soon as the wind dies down," Captain Davidson shouted in the ear of his lieutenant, "they'll probably attack…again. Just to test our strength…again. Have the men get what rest they can. We're going to need every bloke ready to fight," the British Commonwealth officer remarked. He shook his head; as if anyone was going to get any sleep with that wind screeching like a didgeridoo.

Not wasting any words, Mitch Cochlan nodded. He moved away, staggering in the gusts as he made his way to every rock and crevice where the Australian soldiers were trying to stay out of this cyclonic storm. After passing along the information, making sure each man was in as much of a sheltered position as possible and confirming that their sentries hadn't blown away; Lieutenant Cochlan sat beside Corporal Buchanan. "Makes even Alice Springs seem like a beach spot on the Caribbean, doesn't it?" He spoke loudly.

Tom Buchanan, carving on a small disk, nodded in agreement. "This is worst than any dunny I've ever sat my bum in. Including that one with the salt water croc stashed inside."

Cochlan grinned to himself. He knew more about how that reptile got into that privy than he was willing to admit.

"There, it's finished," the corporal announced as he treaded a bootlace through a hole in his latest creation. He showed it to his friend. It was a small heart-shaped disk of wood with the initials MC and SM carved inside. "Sorry, Mitch, if I had known I'd be using my woodcarving skills here, I'd have brought my tools with me. There's not much I can do with only a pocket knife and some sandpaper."

"It's great. Good on ya, Tom. Sarabeth will like this. Thanks." Holding it in his hands, the man smiled. His face gre sadder as he stated, "Guess I'll put it in the dilly bag, along with our letters."

Buchanan tried not to shudder. Knowing that few, if any, of the men in this outfit would actually survive the next few days, everyone had written last letters to their sweethearts or wives, friends and families. Several wills had been slipped into the small canvas food bag. Cherished, torn and ragged photographs had gone in there, as well. Writing a quick note, Cochlan placed his contribution in the container that was now referred to as the 'death' bag.

Everyone knew that the first person, who was seriously injured, or killed, would have that packet tied to their clothing. From there, it would travel to either a MASH unit or a casualty collection point. And eventually, home to their loved ones. Everyone knew that. The Australian soldiers knew it would happen soon. They just didn't know when.

* * *

Later that afternoon, a message was received at the 4077th MASH hospital. Klinger managed to capture only part of that transmission. It said: '_Cinch your saddle tight. It's fixin' to be a rough ride'._ Colonel Potter was certain they were not warning about the windstorm still raging around them.


	75. 75

SEVENTY FIVE

* * *

While Lieutenant MacAllister was struggling with the medical records at the 8063rd, Lieutenant Parnelli was having a much easier time with the medical records at the 4077th. Waiting for her, on top of the desk in the supply storeroom, was the template the redheaded Texan had created for tabulating the treatment numbers.

The new second-in-command nurse started the monotonous process of reading through every patient chart. Having that guide did make it easier to compile the required information, though. And, Monica reluctantly admitted to herself, so did having all the notes for a patient bound together in the same folder. Now, she understood why the head nurse kept harping on that necessity. Not that she would ever tell Major Houlihan she was right.

A couple of hours into her assignment, the woman decided she needed a break. This was tedious and it wasn't any fun. She hadn't imagined the drudgery required to write these reports. Monica walked over to the coffee pot. As she poured herself a cup, she listened to the noises outside. Somewhere nearby, a piece of roof tin was thumping with each wind gust. Other unfamiliar clangs and clanks could be heard, as well. The walls rattled as the storm tried to force its way inside the wooden building. She had had to latch the door, just to keep it from being blown off its hinges.

The nurse sighed. Tomorrow was the last day of February and she had to finish everything tonight. Rather than return to work, however; bored and naturally nosey, Parnelli rummaged through the drawers of the desk. Finding nothing there, she expanded her search to the filing cabinets. Here, she made an exciting discovery; the surgical activity account that MacAllister had been working on. It was almost complete!

All she needed to do was sort through the last few days' worth of charts and then type in that information. Houlihan would certainly be amazed when she handed over the entire monthly report first thing in the morning. Monica grinned, triumphantly, to herself. Only a temporary position? She'd see about that.

* * *

Trying not to listen to the winds swirling around his tent, Major Winchester turned another page in his book. If he were a man who gave free rein to his imagination, he would have said it sounded like a throng of banshees wailing out there. He frowned in concentration. Who had told him about those Gaelic spirits?

Ah yes, he remembered; Rose, the Irish nanny, who had taken care of the three Winchester children before...before Timothy's passing. A shiver went down his spine. A banshee, he now recalled, who was weeping outside a house, was believed to foretell the death of one of its inhabitants.

Shrugging off that superstition, the surgeon grimaced as he observed his tent mates. One tent mate in particular drew his wrath. Having completed all the assignments their commanding officer and the head nurse had set up for them, the men had returned to their quarters. The Chief Surgeon was still obsessing over Sarabeth's goodbye or rather, her reputed lack there of. He was also pacing around in their small living area, grumbling angrily. Hunnicutt, in an effort to tune out Pierce's ranting, was stretched out on his cot, his pillow pulled over his head.

The major glared at the tall, dark-haired man in annoyance. Maybe the banshees really were outside. Any more of this nonsense from Pierce and he might strangle the man. It would be justifiable homicide. No jury would ever convict him.

"Hawk," B J turned over in his bed. He stated, in tired exasperation, "Let it go. Sarabeth did say goodbye and you did say goodbye back."

Hovering over him, Captain Pierce shook his head. With an impatient gesture, he pushed back a lock of hair that fell across his forehead. "But it doesn't count…not if I don't remember it."

"It most assuredly does count," the man from Boston replied peevishly. "Not that you, Pierce, can actually count beyond the number one."

"Oh, I can count, Charles," Hawkeye retorted hotly. "But I've lost track of the number of times I've resisted punching you in your snooty nose. Or kicking you in that pompous…."

"Enough!" B J Hunnicutt jumped up. He took a moment to calm himself. "Look, this storm has gotten on all our nerves. Charles, you go back to reading your book. Hawkeye, you settle down on your cot and drool over one of your nudist magazines. You and Sarabeth can exchange farewells in every known language when she returns. In the meantime, I don't want to hear another word about it!"

"Here, here," Winchester applauded the speech. "Pierce, you heard the man. For once and for all…cease this sniveling drivel! Or I personally shall tie you up; turn you over to the Chinese; purchase their bullets; and load their rifles for your firing squad!"

"And, I've heard enough from both of you!" Hawkeye Pierce stated resentfully. He grabbed his jacket that was hanging near the door. Slipping into his coat, the man burst out of the tent and headed off in the tempest. His anger was a match for the wild weather surrounding him.

Hawkeye didn't hear Winchester's sardonic, "Au revoir." He also missed seeing the pillow that flew across the room and hit the haughty New Englander in the face.

"I said…enough!" Hunnicutt explained to the startled man as he retrieved his projectile.

* * *

Pulling his jacket closer around his body, Captain Pierce stalked around the compound. Not caring where he went, he let the battering blasts guide his footsteps. They didn't understand. He knew it seemed a ridiculous thing to be concerned about. But, it wasn't trivial; not to him. It was…it was…sinequanon…to his existence. The man stopped and repeated the word in satisfaction. What a wonderful word! That was one of the reasons he liked reading the dictionary.

Glancing up, Hawkeye suddenly realized he was near Sophie's enclosure. He saw Colonel Potter standing beside the mare in the shed. Was something wrong with the animal?

Curious, the man opened the gate and walked inside the corral. Despite his irritation at his fellow Swamp denizens, he grinned. Deliberately ignoring the unpleasant conditions around him, Colonel Potter was calmly brushing the horse. The officer looked at the approaching visitor. "Make sure you shut the gate, Pierce," Potter informed him in a soft tone. "Sophie's a might skittish tonight."

Following his directions, Hawkeye stepped into the rickety shelter, glad to be out of the wind. "_Horsing_ around, Colonel?" He asked, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

"Just preventing night-_mares_," the older man replied with a smile. He reached over the animal's back and handed the other man a currying comb. "Brush in small circular motions", the horseman instructed.

Pierce hesitated. "Uh, Colonel, I don't mind brushing a woman's hair; especially if she's got long, blonde hair," he pulled back as the mare stamped a hoof restlessly, "and has much smaller feet." Hawkeye finished his statement, "But, a horse hairstylist, I'm not."

"Pretend she's a palomino," Potter replied. "Now, brush!"

Unenthusiastically, the younger man began working on his side of the horse. He was surprised to discover that he was soon enjoying the actions, almost as much as the animal. It really was very soothing.

"What brings you out in this storm, son?" Colonel Potter asked. He continued his slow, methodical, sweeping strokes along the mare's side.

"It's my asinine associates," Pierce replied with indignation. "They think I shouldn't be so upset with Sarabeth."

The commander nodded. He had expected that answer. "Who else hasn't said goodbye to you?"

"Well, Trapper John, for one. My best friend here and he didn't even leave a note! And then there's Henry Blake; we really didn't say goodbye; we just punched each other in the shoulder and said 'see ya'. I even told him he was a lucky dog." The man shrugged. "Turns out, he wasn't all that lucky. Neither was my friend, Toby."

"Or my mom," Hawkeye reluctantly added. "I was just a kid. I didn't realize how sick she was. I didn't know that the last time I saw her in the hospital was the last time I'd ever see her." Falling silent, he continued his grooming.

Setting aside his brush, Colonel Potter began combing his fingers through Sophie's mane, gently separating the strands and removing the tangles. He also covertly watched the Chief Surgeon. After a few moments, he spoke again, "Hawkeye, after Margaret married Penobscott, and Frank went crazy in Tokyo and was sent back home; were you upset that he didn't say goodbye to you?"

The man snorted in disbelief. "Are you kidding? I was delirious with delight that he was gone! Although, any patients assigned to his hospital have my deepest sympathy."

"So," the colonel concluded, "it's not really the words being said…but the people who are saying them. And you're afraid, if they don't say goodbye, you won't see them again."

Letting that statement sink in, Hawkeye Pierce realized that Potter was right. The words didn't matter. It was the people he cared about that were so important to him. Grinning at the older man, Pierce asked, "How'd you know what was really bothering me? I didn't even know myself."

Potter pointed to his sparse, graying hair. "I would hope that getting this silver thatch gained me some wisdom." He put away the grooming equipment and poured the mare some grain in her feed bucket. He also gave her some hay and checked her water supply. "It's going to be real noisy and real busy, soon, old girl," the man spoke. He stroked the horse's soft muzzle and moved towards the corral gate. "Try not to let it bother you."

Hawkeye couldn't tell if those words were directed at him or the mare. Either way, it sounded like good advice. Walking back towards the main part of the compound, even though the wind was still blowing strong, he didn't seem to mind it as much. "_Sherman Potter_", the man thought affectionately, "_I owe you one_."

* * *

Much later that afternoon, the storm moved across the mainland and finally blew itself out to sea. Civilians and medical personnel ventured outside their shelters, inspecting the damage done to people and property. Military men, on both sides of the war, cleared the grit from their eyes and cleaned their weapons. They also used the time to shift to better fighting positions.

Colonel Crockett MacAllister and his squad were one of the many factions on the move. After sending that message to the 4077th, they were on their way to their assigned location, when the pilot of their helicopter announced a sudden mechanical failure. Setting down in a different area, the men made quick use of the remaining daylight.

The nearby bridge was wired and the detonators set. If enemy soldiers tried to cross the river, they'd find themselves, and that wooden structure, blown to pieces. Sterling and the rest of the sharp shooters were in position. A few other surprises were planted along the way. Satisfied with the preparations, Colonel MacAllister told his radioman to notify HQ they were in position and were ready.

Hearing their call sign, Captain Davidson, and the rest of the Australians under his command, felt some of the weight leave their shoulders. The American signal was strong; they were probably within a mile of two. Close enough to lend a hand, if the Aussie soldiers needed one.

Colonel Flagg, who, along with his group of Military Policemen, was also transferring to a better position, was not as pleased to hear that call. General Hawthorne had promised that Zheng He was his. He was the one who was supposed to capture that Communist…no one else.

If that redheaded Texan thought he was going to steal all his glory, he'd better think again. MacAllister might just find himself in a cross fire. With that thought to cheer him, the intelligence officer sent out his own message. A prerecorded one in Chinese: one that was guaranteed to draw Zheng He out from his hiding place; _a fire-haired demon had been captured. _

Flagg couldn't wait to see the results of his careful planning.


	76. 76

SEVENTY SIX

* * *

Feb. 28th: 0500 hours

Numerous battalions of infantrymen began their predawn attacks with bells ringing, whistles blowing and drums banging. The Chinese and North Korean soldiers were prepared for heavy, sustained fighting in various sections. Bombing runs and artillery barrages started, as well. Spread out across most of the war-torn peninsula, the Asian armed forces were determined to win this confrontation.

* * *

Hearing the initial stages of what was sure to be a very grueling, and gruesome, onslaught, a tall, redheaded soldier looked around at his group of fighting men. He approved of what he saw in their eyes. "Let's give 'em hell," the Texan drawled.

* * *

Captain Davidson also listened to those announcements of combat. Briefly, he thought about his wife and children back home. Then, he addressed his soldiers, "We're the best damned diggers in ANZAC! And we're going to hold this bloody worthless piece of ground!"

* * *

"Remember," Colonel Flagg cautioned his men as the battles began, "stay hidden. Do not engage the enemy. Let them pass by. We're only interested in Zheng He and his men."

Captain Meyers had already voiced his objections to this plan but thought he would try one more time. "Sir, if we let them go past us, they can outflank us or any of the other outfits in this area."

"That's not our concern. We're only after Zheng He."

"But, sir…." the soldier began.

"These are my orders, Meyers. Follow them!" The Intelligence Officer demanded angrily. He rested his hand on his holster. Nothing…absolutely nothing…was going to interfere with his plans to capture one particular Chinese official.

* * *

Feb. 28th: 0700 hours

As ordered, Monica Parnelli walked over to the charge nurse's tent. She triumphantly handed over a stack of typed pages to the officer who answered her knock. "What's this?" Margaret Houlihan asked.

"Here's the monthly report that you said needed to be turned over to you this morning," the nurse replied.

"Parnelli, I said the report needed to be _completed_ first," Houlihan warned.

"It is," the younger woman responded smugly.

Doubting her statement, Margaret stared at the other nurse. "I'll let you know what corrections need to be made, Lieutenant."

"Despite what you have been led to believe, Major; the duties of the second-in-command really aren't all that difficult," Parnelli answered. "I'm betting you won't find anything in that report that needs to be corrected." With a very satisfied grin on her face, the woman walked away.

"I wouldn't bet on it," the older nurse muttered. She sat down at the table in her tent to begin a very thorough review of those pages.

A short time later, Major Houlihan had to concede the point. Parnelli had managed to pull it off. However, the head nurse doubted that she had accomplished that on her own. More than likely, Parnelli had found MacAllister's notes. "The duties aren't that difficult?" She questioned. "We'll see about that."

* * *

"See how easy that was?" Hawkeye Pierce asked the woman who slid onto the bench beside him. He gave the new arrival his most winning smile. "Now you have the best seat in the house….next to me."

B J Hunnicutt, who had stood to let the nurse take his place, grinned. The medical officers had joined others in the mess tent. He was glad he had gotten that letter to Peg on the supply truck. Judging the ferocity of the heavy weaponry they had been hearing since early this morning, there was no telling when he might have another chance to write to her.

Lieutenant Jennifer Clark had arrived on the same truck that had carried supplies and the payroll to the 4077th. After she had reported to the senior officers and had stowed her gear on the bunk in her assigned tent, she had been waylaid by the Chief Surgeon. It had taken a great deal of his charm and persuasion to get her to join him. "I don't understand, Captain. Last week when I was here, you didn't seem to know that I existed."

"That was because I was conducting a very hush-hush, top secret investigation that could not be delayed. But now, I can give you my complete and undivided attention." Again he smiled at the woman.

Charles Winchester, carrying a tray of something the cook had optimistically called food, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Luckily, Lieutenant," he notified the nurse, "with his short attention span, Pierce won't being bothering you for very long."

Hawkeye looked at the older doctor in annoyance. "Okay, Charles. That's it. Bed pans, or stethoscopes, at ten paces: your choice."

Haughtily lifting his chin, to show his disdain, Winchester replied, "I shall choose…neither." He veered away to sit at another table.

"Good," Hawkeye grinned, casually slipping his arm around the woman's shoulders. "I thought he'd never leave. Now, as I was saying…."

"Excuse me, sirs," Sergeant Rizzo interrupted. "Ma'am," he nodded to the woman. "But I want to get this to Cap'n Hunnicutt before the ambulances arrive." Switching his unlit cigar to his mouth, the man removed a small stack of military script from his pocket. He counted each bill as he pulled it out, "…and five. Here you go, sir." The man from Louisiana tried to give the money to the doctor.

Hunnicutt had lost his smile. "What's this for, Rizzo?"

"To help with the new baby…like Cap'n Pierce told us." He gestured towards the Chief Surgeon, who has trying to wave the man away. "I know all about feeding extra mouths. When Zola Mae's mama comes to visit, there's no way jest one possum in the stew pot is enough. That woman can eat a whole possum by hersel'. And when the rest of the kinfolk show up, it's…."

"Captain Pierce told you I needed money?" B J asked. He had a frown on his face.

"Well, sure," Rizzo replied with his Cajun accent. He was puzzled at the anger in the other man's voice. "With your wife and your baby girl needing so many things, I don't mind he'pin' out…."

"Rizzo, you idiot!" Hawkeye Pierce interrupted. "You aren't supposed to tell B J about our collection."

"Sorry," the man shrugged. "I thought you wanted us to give the money to him."

"For him; not to him!" Captain Pierce retorted.

Hunnicutt pushed himself away from the table. "Thanks, but no thanks, Sergeant. And you…" He glared at the dark-haired surgeon. "We don't need charity."

"It's not charity," the man protested. "It's just…we thought…."

"Don't think, Hawkeye. It only gets you into trouble." B J Hunnicutt stated. "Stay out of my finances. Stay out of my business. And stay out of my life!" He slammed the door as he marched away.

"That went well," Major Winchester remarked in the resulting silence. He started to say something else when the address system was activated.

"Wounded! We've got wounded!"

Soon, all across Korea, personnel in every battalion aide station, every clearing post, every MASH unit, every flight evacuation site and every hospital ship heard those same words.


End file.
